


When I Look Outside My Window

by mistyknight



Series: The Cuddle Huddle [1]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Race Changes, Asexual Bruce Banner, Deaf Clint Barton, Domestic Fluff, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:18:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyknight/pseuds/mistyknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce doesn't exactly understand why they're being sent to Illinois, but Fury said something about "threats to national security" and "catastrophic disaster" and strong-armed him into it. </p><p>An atypical "fake married" story starring two of my favourite goobers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day Zero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my face-claim for bruce is irrfan khan and my face-claim for clint is manish dayal. you *absolutely* do not have to agree with me about it, but those are my decisions. i try to keep the race-talk light so that it's ignorable for the people who 'don't like' this kind of thing, but it definitely makes an appearance.
> 
> this is also an unholy amalgamation of the 616, MCU, and personal headcanons, so tread as lightly as you dare.
> 
> title is from Rihanna's song "Consideration."

“Run that by me again?” Bruce asks, scrubbing at his face with his hand.

He's in Fury's office at 7 in the morning, which isn't as rough on him as could be, but still. 7 a.m. meetings are a lot to ask for when there's no actual emergency to be had.

He didn't brave the Lovecraftian monster that is public transportation during the summer for nothing.

Fury's crosses his arms in front of his chest and stands to stare solemnly out the window.

“Usually we send Natasha in with him, but she’s on a deep-cover assignment and isn’t scheduled to be back for three months.” Fury turns to face him. “In three months, the situation will be beyond critical, and I'd rather not have any casualties that can be avoided.”

“I’m sorry to hear that sir, I am, but I _really_ don’t think I should be your first choice for this assignment." He shouldn't even be in the running, as far as he's concerned.

Fury laughs, short and like Bruce punched it out of him.

“Trust me, you’re not.”

It’s silent for a long minute before Fury sighs.

“Natasha’s on assignment, as you already know. Thor’s off doing god knows what. Viking space prince shit, probably. Parker, Jones, Morse, Rand, Danvers, Drew, and Hill refused on reasonable grounds-”

“Not really selling the assignment, Sir” Bruce pipes in cheerfully. He really doesn't want to do this if he can help it.

“-and I refuse to send in Murdock or Lewis, who both so graciously offered their services." Fury finishes.

“That still leaves Stark, Barnes, Rogers, and Wilson unaccounted for.

"Sir," he tacks on in an afterthought. Probably shouldn't piss off a lion when you're in the heart of it's den.

“I refuse to send Stark in on _anything_ that requires any level of stealth. And Barnes and Wilson are already out in the field on a mission not unlike the one I’m sending you on.”

Bruce is about to voice that that still leaves Steve unaccounted for, but Fury beats him to the punch.

"If you think I'm sending Rogers and Barton into the field, alone, you're more batshit than Von Doom."

There's an edge to his voice that Bruce can't argue with.

The last time they left the two alone for 5 minutes, they returned to a Steve covered head-to-toe in pink feathers and glitter and Clint hiding in the rafters from the mighty Captain's well-aimed shield throws.

That was only last week.

"Look, Banner. I wouldn't be asking this of you if I absolutely didn't need to. It's only three months. Shorter if you can swing it."

Bruce heaves a sigh because he knows when he's been backed into a corner and can't exactly get out.

“Will the house at least have the space for a lab?”


	2. Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for casual racism when they get amongst their new neighbors. nothing too bad, i don't think, but just to be safe.

The trip to Illinois is fairly uneventful. It's the ass-crack of dawn, and Bruce doesn't know what wrong he committed to piss off Fury enough to warrant two early mornings in a row.

It's just Clint and Bruce on the flight over, but Clint’s piloting and it's probably rule #1 of being a passenger that you don't distract the person wearing the pilot's hat. Unfortunately, that meant being left to sit listlessly in the main cabin with nothing but an admittedly poorly packed backpack for company.

The real mission, the one Bruce has signed away three months of his life for, is to follow up on the whispers of an unknown entity with dreams of world domination. Why such a person/organization has thought to do that in suburban Illinois, Bruce has no idea. 

He keeps himself awake through sheer sense of duty. It would reflect terribly on himself as a person if he futzed up the mission because he couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to get a handle on his new identity.

Bruce's Amar Singh is a biology professor married to Clint's Ravi Singh, an office manager. They've been married a year, dated for 5 months before that, and are still very much still in the honeymoon phase of love. Ravi recently got offered a position in Chicago for the summer, and Amar simply loves him too much to be without him for that long.

Amar is a lot like who Bruce already is, but he's even more like who Bruce wishes he could be. They have the same interests and the same back story, sure, but Amar has a sense of abandon that Bruce hasn't allow himself to have since his days at Culver.

Bruce kind of wishes he can practice his part with Clint, get their story straight and in-sync. But the guy's flying an entire plane and that's a bit more important than Bruce's desire to be totally and completely prepared to go into the field.

By the time they land in O’Hare airport and Clint's taxied the quinjet into a private hangar, Bruce thinks he has a fairly good grasp on how to be Amar Singh.

Two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents are waiting in the hangar and hand Clint the keys to a UHaul. They take Bruce's stuff out of the cargo hold and are piloting the quinjet away before Bruce is really sure what's happening.

“I’ll drive,” Clint mutters after they secure everything in the back. Bruce doesn’t argue. He doesn’t like driving anything bigger or more enclosed than a mo-ped.

Clint pops in a CD entitled "Darcy's Ultimate Playlist: A Quiet Road Trip" before throwing the truck into gear and steering them towards the freeway.

The music is nice, catchy but inoffensive to his ears. Bruce leans back and closes his eyes, letting the air conditioning and music wash over him.

Eventually, they pull up to IKEA. Bruce is climbing out of the cab when Clint catches his arm and tugs him back in.

“Amar, dearest. You’re forgetting something,” Clint sighs, like it’s a thing that happens regularly.

Bruce pushes his glasses back up with his free hand, taking a second to catalogue the moment.

Clint's still holding onto his arm, and it's Callus City. It's both rough and soft, and he kind of can't believe that he's never actually touched Clint before this.

"...A kiss?" he hazards. Maybe it was how Clint got into the right headspace for the mission. He wouldn't know. This is the most Clint's spoken to him since they got on the quinjet together, so he's not exactly sure what's on Clint's mind.

He wont turn down a kiss though, no matter how sad that makes him appear, even in the relative privacy of his own mind.

Clint huffs, turns offs the car, and start digging around in his pocket.

If Bruce weren't used to warmer climates, he'd be a bucket of sweat Clint'd have to mop up. As it is, he can feel the pits of his shirt start to dampen up and he hopes Clint doesn't leave him in this state of suspended animation for much longer.

Clint utters a triumphant 'a-ha!' and grabs Bruce's hand.

He tries not to flinch away. It usually doesn't end well, people touching his hands.

But this is Clint, and they're pseudo-married. So he tries not to flinch _much_ when the two circles of gold and smattering of lint land in his hand.

He affords himself another second to catalogue the new information being presented to him.

“Ravi, you’re so good to me. Without you, I couldn't be sure my head is still screwed on,” Bruce says with a small smile, hoping that he can slip into being Amar as easily as Clint does with Ravi.

Clint’s smile is just shy of blinding as he glacially lets go of Bruce's hand to slip the simple golden ring onto Bruce's ring finger. It’s an unfamiliar weight and he flexes his fingers to try and get used to it.

He’s not planning on the Hulk making an appearance any time soon, but he's a little worried about what his other half'll think about the tiny circle of gold.

Clint slips a nearly-identical ring onto his own finger and Bruce huffs in put-upon indignation at not being able to do it himself.

Clint laughs, gets out of the cab and waits for Bruce to do the same before lacing their hands together like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

They spend _hours_ in Ikea.

Clint casually touches Bruce the entire time, grabbing his elbow and steering him places or just simple touching him for no real purpose besides the fact that that's apparently what people in love do.

Clint is particularly interested in the bedding section, test-driving every mattress for a variety of circumstances.

He has an honest to goodness checklist, printed on paper and everything. It's all very official. He vetoes a perfectly serviceable mattress that Bruce suggests on the grounds that it takes him more than 2 seconds to barrel roll across it.

Yes, there was a stopwatch involved.

In the end, they buy the most expensive mattress. Bruce isn't sure that it actually passes any of the things on Clint's checklist, but he's not going to argue. They pick up some nice couches, two bookshelf's for Bruce, a dining table, and a ton of knick-knacks that Clint assures him everyone needs.

He does, however, draw the line at Clint getting one of every candle.

“But what if the power goes out?” Clint pouts.

“I just think a hundred candles is a bit excessive,” Bruce says patiently, wheeling the cart away before Clint can toss in any more candles.

“Aww, you're no fun,” Clint mumbles and pushes the flatbed piled with the bigger pieces of furniture to catch up.

Bruce graciously pretends that he doesn’t notice the extra candles stuck precariously in between the shrink-wrapped furniture. 

The cashier doesn’t blink twice at their overflowing carts and rattles out a four digit price tag total that sends Bruce staggering a step back.

Clint just steps up and swipes a black credit card with a look of obvious glee.

They work out a system where Bruce lifts everything from the carts to the trunk and Clint arranges everything to his liking. Bruce is starting to see the shape their marriage is going to take.

When they're done, Clint hops back in the drivers seat and switches out the CD in the player for one titled "Darcy's Ultimate Playlist: Triumphantly Spending S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Money" before driving away.

When Bruce asks how many just how many CD's there are in Darcy's Ultimate Playlist, Clint shrugs.

"Since she can't know the details of my missions, she's trying to make one for every possible situation that can happen. So far, she's been pretty on the nose."

They pull up to the house- their house, now- after a long while driving and begin to take their belongings out of the truck in the dying sunlight.

Just like Clint warned they would, neighbors come out of the woodwork to offer their assistance.

It’s a lot less assistance and a lot more blatant ogling, but he was used to it.

What he wasn't prepared for was the borderline-impolite incessant questioning.

“What does your name mean?”

“No, but where are you really from?”

“I had a friend in college named Aadip Singh. Are you related? Also, why don’t you wear turbans like he did?”

“Why don't you have an accent?”

Bruce doesn’t think he’s faced this much casual racism since freshman year.

The sun’s long gone by the time they get the last nosey neighbor out the door.

Bruce collapses against the closed front door once Cheryl-from-across-the-street has cleared the driveway.

Clint comes over and sinks down onto the floor next to him.

“I wanted to cook, but that took way longer than I thought it would,” he groans and rests his head on Bruce’s shoulder.

Bruce chuckles mirthlessly. He's in the same boat.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Bruce’s stomache growls.

“Take-out?”

“Take-out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that i ever want to defend fury, but in fury's defense, he totally knows that clint can spend all day in ikea if he's allowed to, so dawn is the only leave time that would get clint in and out of ikea before the store closes


	3. Day Two

Bruce wakes up the next morning in his lab, having slept quite comfortably on the combo sofa/bed thing that Clint talked him into getting.

He stumble/walks towards the kitchen, not exactly sure where he left his glasses last night, but knowing that a nice cup of tea would go a long way towards clearing the haze currently invading his brain.

Clint's in the kitchen already, sitting at the kitchen table and sipping coffee straight from the pot. Bruce thinks he sees Clint give him a nod of acknowledgement, but he's equally sure it could have been Clint nodding off into his coffee.

The cabinets are very scarce, stocked with only a couple of odds and ends, so Bruce is surprised and thankful for the ministrations of S.H.I.E.L.D. that they left him a box of his favourite tea.

"Good morning," Clint says after the entire pot of coffee has been ingested and he's eaten the piece of plain toast that Bruce waved under his nose.

"Good morning. You sound like shit," Bruce acknowledges. He'd wager that Clint also looks like shit, but he can't see fine details in his visually-impaired state, and he doesn't want to assume.

"Didn't get much sleep. Didn't take my aids out before I went to sleep," he says and taps his ear with a finger.

Bruce hums and finishes his toast, not really sure what to say to that.

"We should get going to the grocery store. We wont make it to lunch with the food here," he says eventually.

The Clint-shaped blur nods and leaves the kitchen, presumably to go get dressed. Bruce follows suit soon after, leaving the dishes in the sink to pull on his least-rumpled button-up and slacks.

He's not sure how they're getting to the grocery store, or even where the nearest one is, so he grabs his walking shoes and carries them to the front door to put on.

Clint's waiting in a car parked in the driveway. A car that Bruce is fairly sure wasn't there last night.

The UHaul is nowhere to be seen.

Bruce's first action, after locking the front door, is to beam at Clint. Partly because Mary-Ann-from-down-the-road is walking down the block with her two Russell Terriers while Cheryl-from-across-the-street is surreptitiously peeking out of her window, and the show must ever go on. But another big factor is that he simply didn't want to have to walk to the grocery. They're deep in the suburbs, walking would have been a nightmarish parade.

Bruce puts a finger up, gesturing for Clint to wait for him in the car. He hefts the reusable grocery bags up higher on his shoulder, trying to reach Mary-Ann-from-down-the-road before she gets too far down the road.

He notices that she freezes for a moment before she can school her expression back to a more neutral look when he approaches.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mary Ann," he apologizes. "Ravi and I are were wondering if there are any grocery stores in the area that you would recommend, or any that you would avoid. We don't really know the area well yet." He looks down at his feet to show deference to her knowledge.

When he finally gets in the car, Clint looks at him quizzically.

"Just doing my part to integrate with the neighbors," he answers with a happy look.

They drive to the grocery store that Mary Ann suggested, following GPS directions rather than relying on the directions Bruce isn't altogether sure he remembered correctly.

Inside the store, Clint spends a lot of time reading the labels. He has a tendency to pick the easily-recognizable junk food, but he assures Bruce that he has a few recipes that he wants to do, so he spends the a while scanning each aisle for what he needs.

Bruce, on the other had, goes for practicality. He gets the main staples, rice and deli meats and the beans. The kind of stuff he thinks will probably make up the bulk of their diet while they're on assignment.

Clint’s in the middle of assessing the wall of cereal choices when Black Sabbath starts blaring from Bruce’s phone. Clint dismisses it immediately, knowing exactly whose calling.

“Jolly green, I’m hurt,” is the first thing that Bruce hears.

“Hello to you too, mother” Bruce answers back.

“Ooo, is someone listening in? Do the walls have ears?” Tony asks, curiosity burning in his voice.

Tony can probably hack into S.H.I.E.L.D. and find out the details of their assignment faster than Bruce can count to four, but Bruce thinks that he gets more of a kick trying to figure it out for himself.

As it stands, Bruce doesn’t think anyone in particular is listening to their conversation. It’s Saturday. Most people are still asleep or wishing that they were, this early in the morning.

That doesn’t mean he’s going to indulge Tony’s antics, though.

“Ravi and I are grocery shopping right now.”

“Ravi? Sounds kinky.” Bruce can hear his eyebrows waggling.

“Yes, mother. We have copious amounts of vegetables in our possession, all waiting to be purchased,” Bruce tries to sound like a put-upon son used to his mothers antics. It’s a bit of a stretch for his acting abilities, he’ll admit, but he thinks he pulled it off.

Clint walks back to where Bruce is leaning on the cart, three boxes of cereal in his grasp. Only one box can be classified as Not a Sugar Bomb, so Bruce assumes that that's the box Clint's picked out for him.

“Tell Mother I said hello, and that she left her hemorrhoid cream underneath the kitchen sink.”

Bruce parrots the information and holds in a chuckle when Tony squawks in indignation at the slight.

“I’ll have to call you later, mother. We’re next to check-out,” Bruce says and waits a beat before hanging up the phone.

“Sneaky,” Clint says with appreciation in his voice as Bruce guides the shopping cart towards the next aisle over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not saying i deserve a parade or anything, but if y'all knew how delicately i am handling writing a certain character that i really, really do not like, y'all would be impressed as shit


	4. Day Two: Part Two

When they get back home, Clint convinces Bruce to share the bed with him.

Well, maybe 'convinces' is too strong a word. 'Wheedles him into compliance' is a much more apt description.

“This mattress costs more than everything in my entire apartment back in Bed-Stuy, the least you can do is appreciate it,” Clint says to Bruce again for the fifth time in so many minutes.

They're still putting the groceries away, so it's not like he can walk away.

Or can he? He's not too sure of the rules yet.

He doesn't have anything against sharing a bed, not really. He's done it often enough and it's never led to anything too bad. The entirety of the problem lies in that he would be sharing a bed with Clint.

He's heard more about Clint's love life than he has ever cared to know. The entire super-hero community is invested. It's their version of a soap-opera at this point.

"How's Jessica, by the way?" Bruce asks innocently, turning away to put the rice in the spot of honor in the cabinet.

Clint stops rustling through the bags and when he finally speaks, he sounds very confused. "Jones or Drew? Jones and Cage are shacked up, being absolutely nauseating with the cutest kid I've ever seen. And last I heard, Drew was doing good, too. A kid on the way and everything."

Bruce turns to look at Clint again. "Is the kid-"

"Going to have super spidey powers? I dunno, you'd have to ask Jess. We're still on the outs with each other." Clint shrugs and rubs at his neck.

That wasn't what Bruce was going to ask, but it does answer his question.

"And Darcy?"

Clint smiles widely, and Bruce's heart sinks. Just a little.

"She's great," he says admiringly.

"Oh," he answers back.

"We can share the bed, but no funny business," he relents, finally. Clint's like a dog with a bone when he has an idea, but Bruce knows that death is kinder than Darcy Lewis when you get on her bad side.

Funny business with Clint would definitely land him on Darcy's bad side, he's sure of it.

Clint raises a hand. "Scout's honor. I'm totally the small spoon, anyway."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have y'all seen whats going on with clint's character in the 616 lately? it's such a tragic accident, i just don't know


	5. Day 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the only reason i'm posting this and not in a ball on the floor crying that this chapter got deleted and had to be retyped from scratch is because i discovered alabama shakes. what a good band, y'all.

Bruce wakes up because the bed is shaking.

“Bruce! Bruuuuuuuuce. _Bruce_. I know you can hear me,” Clint calls in a sing-song voice.

Bruce cracks one of his eyes open, just enough to see the shadowy silhouette of Clint jumping up and down on his half of the bed.

“Whayawant?” Bruce mumbles into the air in front of his face.

“We gotta get going! I love a challenge, but Chicago’s rush hour traffic is not it.” He lands heavily on the bed.

Bruce rolls over onto his face. “It’s too early.”

“Brucey, babe. I’m deaf. You’re going to have to speak directly into the microphone if you want to be heard.”

He summons just enough strength to raise his head.

“I said, it’s too early.” He smoshes back into the pillow.

The mattress starts to shake again.

“You have 47 minutes to get up and dressed. Food's in the car already, lets go!”

Bruce lands on the floor with a thump.

He takes a few deep breaths before speaking. “Did you just push me off the bed?”

Clint peeks at him over the edge of the bed.

“Yes! And I’d do it again! Now get your adorable khaki-clad ass into gear!”

Bruce sits up slowly, ever ready to push the Hulk down if he needs to.

He just finds the Hulk laughing his ass off in their shared mind-space.

He gets dressed robotically. Grabs the first shirt and pair of pants that he sees. Looks for his glasses, because he remembers that the world isn't usually this undefined.

Clint’s in the kitchen piling tupperware containers into one of Bruce’s reusable totes. He hands Bruce a to-go mug of warm tea and ushers him out of the door before Bruce is done processing it all.

Clint makes sure that they’re both buckled in and have everything in order before shoving a container at Bruce.

“How’d you find the time to make all this?” Bruce asks as he stuffs himself with the fresh idli. He's not fully awake, but the food is bringing him back to a simpler time. One where he and his mother would spend hours making the small cakes, not even bothering with making a sauce because they knew they'd eat them straight out of the steamer.

Clint scratches at his neck. “Time is always lurking around, Doc. You just gotta know where to look.”

Bruce hums contentedly at his non-answer, and lets the subject fade into nothing.

He contemplates stealing a catnap while they’re on the road. It’s only 6 in the morning, after all, and he’ll need to make up the missing hours of sleep sometime.

Instead, he soaks in the sun, and the sights, and Clint’s godawful singing and let his thoughts fade into background noise.

“You know, I would have joined the list of people who rejected this assignment if I knew your falsetto was this bad,” Bruce says with his most deadpan tone and expression.

Clint peeks at him from the side of his eye.

“If none of you can handle me at my Brittany Howard, none of you deserve me at my Freddie Mercury,” he has such an air of finality to the statement that it makes Bruce snort into his tea.

He wonders how often the subject came up.

When Clint pulls the car into a parking lot, the streets are just beginning to swell with activity.

“Northwestern University?” Bruce asks, dubious.

“Yeah!” Clint’s already climbing out of the car and Bruce has to hurry to keep up. “I figured, we should do something science-y, since you like that stuff for some reason. So, voila! We’re here.”

That’s actually really sweet of Clint.

“Is there an exhibition going? Or a talk?” Bruce is more than a little excited about the prospect, he'll admit.

Clint laces their hands together and starts directing them in a direction seemingly at random. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

Bruce slows his pace. “So, we’re breaking and entering right now?”

Clint pulls at their joint hands, trying to urge him to keep up. “I mean, if you want to be technical.”

Bruce shakes his head and starts walking to match Clint’s pace.

He’s already impossibly lost from all of the paths that Clint’s taken them down, so he might as well enjoy it. Whatever it is.

On the way to their destination, Clint’s doing his best to cajole Bruce’s unease by doing what he does best: cracking jokes and making light of the situation.

“C’mon, Amar. You could be working here in the fall.”

The university system doesn’t work like that, but Clint already knows that.

“I figured you deserve a tour of the Place Where Science Happens, having been cooped up in the house for the past two weeks.”

Bruce actually kind of liked staying clustered in one place.

There was no need to run. Big Brother already knew where he was.

They walk along silently for a while, the palms of their hands occasionally brushing when Clint leads them in a new direction.

Eventually, eventually, they reach their destination. Clint let’s go of his hand to rush forward and hold the door open.

“After you, Mr. Singh,” Clint says with a cheesy smile.

Bruce rolls his eyes but goes along with it with good humor. “Don’t mind if I do, Mr. Singh.”

Bruce imagines that this must be what it was like to be a teenager, mildly rebellious and with excitement stirring at the base of his spine.

The Science Department, it turns out, is _interesting_. Bruce is lost in the sheer amount of history these halls hold within seconds.

Clint’s looking at him with an indulgent smile.

It’s good. Feels whole and pure and _freeing_ , being here with him.

Then they round a corner too quickly and run headlong into a campus security guard.

“Sorry, officer. Wont happen again.” Clint’s backing them artfully out of the situation, gripping Bruce’s elbow and tapping out nonsense patterns on the back of Bruce’s arm, steering them around the officer who was staring a little too openly.

“Are you staff here? You look familiar, but I can’t place your faces.”

Clint turns them to face the officer and sputters. “You don’t recognize Rami Sinclair? Head of Oncology? Won a Pulitzer a couple of months back?”

The officer’s head ducks under the weight of Clint’s indignation. “Of course! Dr. Sinclair, nice to see you again.”

“Umm, yes! Thank you, nice to see you too. Keep up the good work.” See, _this_ is why Bruce isn’t a spy.

Clint’s still tapping at the back of Bruce’s arm, and it’s distracting.

“We really must go. The doctor has a meeting that he really cannot be late to.”

“Oh! Of course, off you go!”

They’re headed towards the nearest exit at the end of the hall when the officer calls after them.

“Hey, WAIT!”

They share a look and tear down the hall like the devil himself is on their heels.

Clint’s leading them down different paths. Bruce may be lost in the sauce about where they are in terms of location but he knows he never saw any of the things that they’re speeding past.

“Where are we going? The car’s that way." He doesn’t point in any particular direction, because he doesn’t know the particular direction, but he knows that this is not it.

“Car’s too far,” Clint says like that’s even an answer.

He leads them to a train station and swipes them in, because _of course_ he was prepared for this turn of events.

They’re waiting for the next train to come along. Bruce is panting a little but Clint,  _the fucker_ , looks utterly composed.

“I can’t believe you don’t know morse code,” he says when Bruce has finally caught his breath.

“I can’t believe you thought that I would know morse code,” Bruce counters.

They stare at each other until the train pulls up.

The train-car is crowded, so they stand close together out of the way from the exits.

“What about the car?” Bruce asks when Clint drags him from one train line to another.

“‘M pretty sure it’ll still be there when we get back. Now c’mon. We gotta catch this next train. There’s this restaurant that makes the most amazing chicken tikka you have to try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from what i understand, idli are steamed cakes made out of rice and lentils
> 
> i know very little about both chicago and northwestern university but i know a fair amount about nyc and columbia university, so i figure, how different can they be?


	6. Day 25

In general, their days follow a set order.

Bruce wakes up, some time before 8. True to his word, Clint is still firmly on his side of the bed. He's taking up every square inch of his side like an human-octopus hybrid, but that's irrelevant in the face of the fact that he's still on his side.

After taking care of bathroom needs, Bruce goes to the room they're using as a gym and does his morning stretches before crossing the hall to check on his experiments.

By 8:30, Clint stumbles into the kitchen half-dressed for whatever super-sleuth-disguised-as-an-office-worker work he has planned for the day. He makes a beeline for the pot of coffee Bruce has brewed and waiting for him. He then makes bedroom eyes at the coffee until he's awake enough to see the food that Bruce has set out.

They eat, and Bruce relays what little intel that he's managed to glean from the neighbors.

By 8:57, Bruce is ushering Clint towards the front door so they can put on their shoes.

At 9:00, Bruce is fixing Clint's tie in the driveway.

It surprised Bruce, that first Monday, when Clint came to him tie in hand and shame burning on his cheeks. But since then, Bruce relishes the chance to get to tie his tie every morning.

Bruce waves Clint off as he drives off down the street and starts the 45 minute drive into Chicago.

Clint won't be back until after 5, so Bruce has at least 8 hours where mostly just reads and works on the neighbors some more.

They discovered early on that the neighbors just do not like Clint. Clint could be cutting the grass with his shirt off, and everyone will look through him to talk to Bruce.

It's maddening, but Clint assures Bruce that it's okay. As long as the neighbors like at least one of them, Clint reasons, they have an in.

Clint doesn't find much, no matter how much digging he does. Some concealed joints and evidence of tax evasion is about all he's found so far. Nothing big enough to garner S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention,

When Clint gets back in for the evening, they help each other cook. Bruce does the bulk of the cooking, making the simple everyday meals. Clint cooks only on occasion, because his skill-set ranges from simple things like peanut butter sandwiches to overtly complex things like chicken frangelico on a bed of freshly homemade pasta, with absolutely nothing in between.

Sometimes on the weekends, when Clint's not dragging Bruce around the great state of Illinois, they invite a neighbor or two over for dinner.

On those occasions, Bruce will loudly and repeatedly enthuse how 'Ravi did all the work really I just stood there and measured things for him'.

Clint always gets a funny look in his eye when it happens, but he doesn't say anything about it yet.

They wash the dishes together, and Clint goes to make his daily report to Maria Hill.

By 9:00, no matter what, they're in their pajamas and in bed. Clint tunes the house's sole television to Real Housewives of Somewhere-or-Another.

On commercial breaks, Clint explains the intricacies of who everyone is to each other and the importance of what has happened. It's interesting the way Clint tells it, but whenever Bruce actually tries to actually pay attention to the show, it holds a lot less mystery and intrigue than what Clint describes.

There's an hour between the end of the Real Housewives and the start of the Nightly Show, and Clint takes the opportunity to flip the channel to the news. It's obviously for Bruce’s sake, because Clint only pays cursory attention to the program for 5 seconds before pulling out his phone to play games and call someone named Katie-Kate to (quietly) argue about the latest Housewives episode.

Bruce doesn't have the heart to tell him that he actually prefers to get his news from print media. After the numerous smear campaigns against the Hulk he's seen, he's lost all appreciation for the medium.

At 11:00, Clint ends his call (sometimes when he's in the middle of a sentence even) and changes the channel to Comedy Central.

According to Clint, the day isn't complete until Trevor Noah tells him all the news that he needs to know.

Bruce goes to sleep sometime after the start of the Nightly Show. He makes sure to remind Clint to take out his hearing aids before conking out

Clint must fall asleep eventually, but every time Bruce has ever woken up in the middle of the night for some reason or another, Clint's watching infomercials on mute.

And so it goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made small changes to the previous chapters, if anyone's interested. the problem with being an editor is that i can always go back to something and see a million flaws that i absolutely must fix. a true blessing/curse.


	7. Day 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoa-oh, we're more than halfway there. whoa-oh, we're living on a prayer. seriously, 2 chapters within 24 hours of each other? i'm a lean mean writing machine. about 4 more chapters and an epilogue left.
> 
> vague mention to an ableist slur here. like, super vague, but better to be safe than sorry

It's a bright and hot Saturday when someone is actually dumb enough to insult Ravi's- Clint's- intellegence within earshot of Bruce's hearing.

They're at Ashleigh-from-two-blocks-over's house today. The adults are ensconced in the shade, sipping mimosas and commiserating about the frankly offensive heat while the kids splash around in the pool.

He doesn't know exactly who said what to who, and it's probably better that way. Already, the Hulk is practically demanding blood.

Best not to give his anger a target.

Bruce roughly pushes away from the chair he was sitting in. He knows he needs to flee the scene before the wild look in his eye turns anymore green.

Not that he particularly wants to, but he doesn’t trust himself to speak, not knowing how much of the Hulk lies in his voice right now.

It'll come back to haunt him, he's sure, leaving the get-together so abruptly and with no explanation.

But well, that's a problem for Future Bruce.

Thankfully, he's able to intercept Clint in the hall where he's just leaving the bathroom.

He grabs his hand and drags him bodily towards the front door.

“The mimosas?” Clint asks, throwing a glance towards the backyard where the drinks are, in all likeliness, slowly evaporating.

Future Bruce will have a lot of damage control to do.

“Not a priority,” is what Current Bruce growls out, his voice already deepened with anger.

Clint follows him without another word.

Bruce drops his hand as soon as their front door is closed behind them and rushes towards his lab.

There’s probably a lot of irony in surrounding himself with tons of small, breakable glass objects right now, but S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't actually gotten around to Hulk-proofing more than one room, so it will have to do.

He types in the code to seal the room before the Hulk took over.

Later, he'll deal with his anger as Bruce. But Hulk needs his time to rage, too, and far be it from Bruce to stop him.

Bruce curls up in his personal head-space, but not before giving Hulk permission to do whatever he wants as long as it's within the confines of this room.

 

Their combined rage feed his greener half like mother’s milk.

 

When he comes to again as Bruce, it’s dark outside the window. He hears a tentative knock at the door of the lab and gropes around until he finds the extra pair of pants he has stored in the closet.

He answers the door, still shirtless, hopefully free of the damning tear tracks.

Clint takes in Bruce’s appearance, as well as the still perfectly intact lab, in one quick glance.

“You okay?" he asks.

"Yeah. Jared-from-around-the-corner made some disparaging comments about the industrial prison complex, and I kinda lost it. Didn’t meant to worry you.” Bruce tries for a sheepish smile.

It wouldn’t be truthful of Bruce to say he doesn't know why he just lied to Clint.  He knows exactly why. Even though he and Clint aren't as good of friends as the Hulk and Clint are, he wont stop trying to protect Clint in the limited way that he can.

Clint carefully scans his face for a minute more before backing away so that Bruce can slip past him into the hall.

He makes a beeline to the kitchen.The Hulk didn’t do much besides scream and cry in rage, but the transformation itself burned calories like crazy.

He’s scarfing down his second sandwich and waiting for the water to boil so he can make some of Clint’s instant noodles when Clint walks into the kitchen.

“You forgot something, Mr. Singh.”

Bruce turns towards him, a quip waiting on the tip of his tongue.

But before he speaks, he processes what is in front of him.

Clint’s holding a ring.

Specifically, Bruce’s ring.

The one he threw off so the Hulk wouldn’t lose a finger.

“Don't think this means that I want a divorce,” he says dryly.

“I wouldn’t dare,” Clint replies solemnly and passes over the ring.

His skin still feels tingly and new after hulking out, even after all these years. He slips the ring onto his own finger and takes a moment to refamiliarize himself to the feel.

“Imagine the scandal that would have ensued if I was caught without this,” he muses.

“I don't think our marriage could survive it,” Clint says with the slightest hint of something coloring his tone.

“Want to eat instant noodles and explain reality shows to me?” Bruce offers after a minute, still very unsure as to where they stand.

Clint's grin is wide and as dazzling as ever.

“Do you even need to ask?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've technically never lived in the suburbs, can you tell?


	8. Day 38

The aftermath was, as predicted, spectacularly suburbanite in fashion.

Ashleigh-from-two-blocks-over was at their door at noon the next morning bearing an pineapple upside-down cake, a bottle of white wine, and a look that can only be described as desperately humiliated.

"I hunted down who said such awful things about your Ravi and gave 'em what for. They won't be opening their trap about him anytime soon, I made sure about it." She looks so angry and bothered about it, even though it's a new day, and Bruce is amazed by her tenacity.

"Why don't you join us for breakfast?" he suggests. Clint's barely rolled out of bed, so they haven't gotten around to eating yet.

She declines at first, trying to push the peace offerings into his hands and leave them to the rest of their Sunday in peace but Bruce wears her down with promises of blueberry pancakes.

"Just please, don't mention yesterday," he requests before they go to the kitchen.

She mimes zipping her lips and throwing away the key and Bruce can't find it within himself to regret inviting her into their space. Not even a little bit.

In the kitchen, she tries to make small talk with Clint while Bruce gathers the ingredients. Unfortunately, Clint is still in the early stages of making out with the coffee pot and hasn't progressed beyond one syllable grunts yet.

When Bruce tells her a little bit about Clint's/Ravi's coffee co-dependency ("without coffee, Ravi would never survive. Without Ravi, the coffee industry would bankrupt") her mouth forms a shocked 'o' and she goes with it like a champ.

Ashleigh and Bruce talk, trading little facts about their lives and Clint becomes more and more of an active participant in the conversation once the caffeine starts to settle into his bloodstream.

It's ridiculously easy to convince Ashleigh to stay over and help them polish off the cake and wine. It's only a little after 1 in the afternoon, but Clint declares that its 5 o' clock somewhere, and pours them each a mugful of wine.

Bruce is more than a little proud that she's willing to spend time with them rather than whatever she surely had planned for the day.

He's more than a lot proud that she's willingly engaging Clint in conversation, asking him questions and nudging him with an elbow like old friends.

Bruce tells her stories of his travels, carefully doctored to fit reasonably into the life of Amar. And Clint, who is not to be outshone, flawlessly weaves himself into his tales even when they weren't on the same continent at the time.

Eventually, though, comes the one question that Bruce somehow never really mentally prepared himself to answer.

"How'd y'all meet?" Ashleigh asks, her cheeks lightly flushed with color from the wine.

Bruce picks up his wineglass to swirl the mostly untouched wine, trying to buy himself a couple of seconds to think.

Every time they've been asked that question it didn't feel like the actual answer mattered. They could say that they met during the Battle of New York, and no one would dig too deeply because they knew that it was a traumatizing time.

But this time, the answer feels like it matters.

Luckily, oh so luckily, Clint steps in to spin the tale.

"Amar here was in Calcutta, doing his level best to save the world one person at a time. You might not know this, but he's a very adequate doctor, and the people there did not mind so much that he was unlicensed." He sips some of his wine.

"A mutual friend of ours convinced him to come back to America. It was the Battle of New York, as you know, and I was directly in the center of it. Not by choice, mind you, but because of my job in the high-rises."

A pause. "I lost a couple of good friends in the Battle, and I was falling apart left and right. But he came back to America, and we met on the ruined streets of New York."

"When the Battle was over and I could see clearly through the fog, he stayed even though he didn't have to. He could have gone back to Calcutta, or even Mumbai, or anywhere really. But he stayed. And even though we never talked much, his presence and willingness to be there was a total turn-on."

Bruce feels as shocked as Ashleigh looks.

She looks between the two of them, trying to piece this new information together with what she already knows about them.

"And how did you two get together, if you don't mind my asking?"

They've never talked about that one before.

But Clint grins like he's remembering a happy memory.

"Not at all. He always seemed to know I was lagging and would bring me coffee, or how he would cook for us all sometimes. How could I not be in love with him? Tash, our mutual friend, locked us into a closet together until we, and I quote: 'pulled our heads out of our asses'."

Ashleigh collapses under the weight of her giggles.

When she sets herself to rights again, Clint decides that he's not done dropping bombshells.

"I refuse to call him my other half. He's a whole. I'm a whole," he sips his wine again. "But I'm like peanut butter and sometimes he's like jelly and sometimes he's like bacon. Either way, we compliment each other and make a tasty sandwich," Clint says with a shrug like it wasn't the most weirdly romantic thing that's ever been said to Bruce by anyone.

Bruce looks down at his wine so he doesn't have to meet anyone's gaze.

"A peanut butter and bacon sandwich?"

Bruce's brain may be shorting out, but he works up the nerve to look at Clint, because peanut butter and bacon sounds terrible and he needs an answer.

"I'm from Iowa," he answers, like it's the answer to life's mysteries. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ashleigh is my southern belle child and i love her. i think she looks like honey from fresh off the boat, but i'm not sure.
> 
> up next: jane foster and her entourage make an appearance and drop more bombs on bruce than he was strictly prepared for


	9. Day 38 (An Interlude)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes two extra chapters popped outta nowhere. they're relatively short, though, and definitely the calm before the proverbial storm

Eventually, Ashleigh remembers that she has her own house, and that she's been gone for the better part of the day from it. Reluctantly, she makes her excuses and gets up to leave.

Bruce insists that they walk Ashleigh home. Even though the sun is still hanging out in the sky like it'll never leave, and even though it's a really safe neighborhood, Ashleigh's still tipsy.

It's the neighborly thing to do.

Once he's got his shoes on, Bruce wedges himself in between the two and links his arms through theirs. He figures its the safest bet, because if he left them together, he's pretty sure that they would look like the tail end of a drunk snake.

It's actually a really peaceful walk. In the dying evening heat, Ashleigh hums to herself and Clint looks at the emerging stars.

As soon as Ashleigh is safely in her house and they've secured a promise to meet up again sometime in the near future, they're on their way back home.

As if by magic, as soon as they're out of direct sightline from Ashleigh's house, Clint is as sober as can be.

Bruce nudges him in the ribs, silently asking for an explanation.

"You didn't think I would get drunk off of wine, did you?" Clint rolls his eyes.


	10. Day 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yowza, this got more emotional than i was expecting it to go

The last week and a half have been weird.

Bruce made them weird, he knows it.

Bruce doesn't know how to make it un-weird. Even wikihow doesn't have an article on this, and they have articles on _everything._

They still have breakfast together, still cook dinner and watch reality tv together at the end of the day.

But it's remarkably different. Interactions feel stilted, just a little. Clint doesn't blare his music like he used to. He plays it at a reasonable volume.

Bruce.

Is.

Freaking.

Out.

He's tempted to call Natasha. Hell, he's even thought of breaking into Clint's phone to get the number to the ever-mysterious "Katie Kate."

But he can't justify going through with those options until he's at least tried to puzzle it out for himself.

He knows for sure that it all started going wrong after that Sunday with Ashleigh.

He suspects it has to do with his reaction (or rather, lack thereof) to Clint's portrayal of their getting-together.

Unfortunately, that's where the trail runs cold.

Over the last week, Ashleigh has provided them with enough neighborhood gossip that Clint has actual spy work to do again. Which means he's out more, doesn't take as many half-days as he used to, and he's mainlining coffee like it's water.

Bruce knows this could all be done and dealt with if he just opened his mouth and talked, but well.

He doesn't actually know what he would say.

_Clint I think you're totally hot, and I love that you and the Hulk are best bros, and I would love to actually date you because being pretend married to you has been great. But I'm totally not into the sex thing. That's the one thing I won't compromise on, and I can't ask you to compromise on that either. You like sex, I don't. It would never work. Also, Darcy would piss in my cornflakes and switch out my tea for decaf if I made a move on her man. Oh god, how could I forget that you're dating Darcy? She tazed the god of Thunder._

Yeah, no. Life wasn't elementary school.

He'll have to figure out a different way.

And soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone have recs re: comics starring bruce banner/the hulk? everytime i try to read a series, i leave with my blood boiling because its so piss poorly written, i can't believe it. like, there is just no integrity to the character(s).
> 
> anyways, the next chapter for sure has jane and her squad show up.


	11. Day 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is m a s s i v e. well, in comparison to the rest of this so far anyways. i split it in half, but it's still pretty long. 
> 
> darcy lewis is 100% of the fanon variety. i don't think i even know what her personality is in the movies anymore because they don't pay her nearly enough attention in them.
> 
> strap in kids, we're in for a ride.

Bruce is woken up at 6 in the morning on Thursday by someone pounding on the front door.

It started off generally quiet and easily ignorable but now it's like whoever it is is attacking the door with a jackhammer.

He's insanely jealous that Clint gets to keep snuggling the mattress, blissfully unaware, but he's the one who convinced Clint to take out his hearing aids every night so he has no one to blame but himself.

As far as he can tell, the knocking comes in short bursts of intense action, followed by lengthy silences, kind of like they're giving him time to reach the door before the next barrage. He tugs on his robe and times it so he gets there between the assaults.

At this point, he doesn't even care who it is that he has to deal with, so long as they _stop_.

Darcy Lewis damn near punches him in the face when he appears where the door was seconds before.

Luckily- like, _super_ luckily- they both have very fast reflexes. He ducks bodily out of the way, and she grabs her hurtling hand with the other before it get too close to his retreating figure.

"Oh, hey, Bruce! You're not Clint," she says as she takes in his appearance. There's something in her voice, but it's too early and his scientist brain is currently taking a backseat to his survival instincts.

"No?" he hedges.

There's about six different ways that this can go, and most of them don't look good for him. Or her. Or the structural integrity of the house, for that matter.

"Sorry about the, you know," she nods to the door with the star-bright eyes of the sleep deprived. "I knocked quietly at first, because usually Egghead leaves his hearing aids in on missions even though it's totally bad for him to but he says it gives him piece of mind and a sense of awareness and yadda yadda." She's moving her hands like talking sock puppets.

"But I guess he has his aids out, so I had to whip out the guns." She flexes an arm. "Don't worry, they're street legal," she assures him like he's a co-conspirator, and he would find it utterly charming if it wasn't _6 in the morning._

"What are you doing all the way out here?"

He can remember, dimly, that Jane has a conference sometime soon. Darcy had the event marked on their group calendar in all manners of neon colors and exclamation points.

"I may not be her assistant anymore, but all of the new kids are too green. Too pure. They can't even dream of handling Janey at a nerd-con just yet. So they called me, the best friend, in. Anyways, we're just getting back from Nerds: The Gathering in Michigan. Since we travel in our own personal crappy 2 star motel and we work in different departments now, it was ridiculously easy to convince Jane to turn the trip into a road trip. All I had to do was mention the lack of light pollution along the highway routes and she was a goner. As long as she gets to make bedroom eyes at the stars, Jane lets me do all the sightseeing my loving and generous heart can handle."

That was a lot of information to parse at a time when he didn't have his thinking cap on, so he tucked it away for later analysis.

"... And how did you know where here is?"

Darcy scoffs. "Dude, I'm a professional hacker and Clint doesn't listen to me when I tell him he really should turn his location off on Twitter. It's waayyy too easy a trail to follow. Now, if you'll excuse me, my sight wishes to be seeing a pot of coffee."

Bruce's at that baseline level of impressed that he's always at whenever he's around Darcy. She doesn't even ask directions to the kitchen.

He leaves her to worship at the altar of the caffeinated god and goes about his usual morning business. If Darcy needs him for something, he's sure she'll find him.

He spends a lot longer in the gym than he would on a normal day. But he has the time, after all, and the "Darcy's Ultimate Playlist: Early Morning De-Stress" is working certified miracles on his fraying psyche.

Once he's sure he's talked the Hulk down from the edge, and then meditated for 10 extra minutes just to be safe, he finally finds it within himself to go to the kitchen.

A kitchen in which Darcy's currently making waffles.

He didn't even know that they had a waffle-maker.

Clint is slumped at the table, in what Bruce has come to understand as his pre-caffeinated state. Jane and Thor are trying their level best to console Clint, it looks like. Jane's patting his arm awkwardly while Thor is trying to engage him with talk about the latest episode of Dog Cops.

Thor notices Bruce first, raising a hand in acknowledgement but otherwise not distracting himself from the task at hand.

Jane looks up when she sees Thor look up and Bruce can see the wheels turning in her head.

"Hey, Bruce! Look everyone, Bruce is here!" She looks at Clint expectantly.

There's no change to Clint's demeanor.

Not that Bruce was looking for one or anything.

"Janey, Janey, Janey," Darcy says with a sigh as she places a plate piled high with waffles and bacon on the table. "We all know Clint can't function without at least a tankard of coffee. Not even all of that," Darcy gestures at Bruce before turning back to the griddle, "can get his motor running without it."

Um, _what_?

Bruce pushes past the awkward knot of feelings forming in his throat that he's coming to know as _Darcy thinks I'm having sex with Clint, and apparently approves_ to address the more immediate concern.

"What happened to the coffee?" He can smell the coffee on the air, so it wasn't like they ran out.

"Well, I had a pot to myself, which is totally justified by the way, since I was left to drive all night due to _reasons_ that will go _unnamed_."

Jane looks down and away for a second before her gaze returns defiantly. "Don't act like you wouldn't tap that if you could."

"Hey, I don't hate the players, only the game," Darcy says and leans over so that they can fist-bump.

Bruce is left to sputter in the privacy of his own mind at the wide grin Thor throws to the two ladies.

" _Anyways_ ," Darcy says loudly, "then Jane came in, all freshly sexed up and in need of caffeination. Lo and behold, she stumbled upon the holiest of grails: the best stocked coffee collection outside of a Starbuck's."

Bruce doesn't know when she took a turn into telling the story like an epic, but he guessed that if you spent enough time with Thor you were bound to be effected by his mannerisms.

"Then Thor, who, may I add, was also freshly sexed up, appeared. He too was also desperately seeking caffeination. But his is of Aesir stock, and therefore in possession of an Aesir sized stomache. Naught but 3 pots of the devil's brew could sate such a warrior." Thor grinned and gave her a thumbs up, which she returned.

"It then came to pass that Clinton, whose eyesight rival that of a hawks, emerged from hibernation." Darcy's entire demeanor turned somber. "All know that Clinton is as if a shade on Helheim until the brew has done its work. Alas, after countless rounds, the brewmaster had collapsed under the weight of demand, spewing smoke unlike any seen before."

Bruce must have looked confused, because Jane elaborated.

"We overheated the coffeemaker before Clint could get his morning dose."

Ah.

Thor claps Clint on the shoulder and then catches Clint, since he's tipping over in his chair from the weight of Thor's gesture. Once he's sure Clint wont keel over, he rises to join Darcy at the counter where she's making the last of the waffles.

"Very well told, little sister. Upon my next journey to Asgard, I will inform Bragi and the skalds of your remarkable progress towards joining their ranks."

"Aww, thanks Thor. That really means a lot." She smiles at him, and Bruce can totally see what Clint sees in her.

He also sees her slap his hand away with the spatula from where it was inching slowly towards the waffle batter.

"Eat the freshly baked ones, not the goopy predecessors," she instructs, pointing her spatula at the table.

"But I _like_ the batter," Thor says with a wobbly bottom lip.

"I don't care that your godly DNA is immune to salmonella, if you don't sit at that table _right now_ , I'll make sure Jane goes on a sex strike," she threatens.

Jane looks up from where she's still trying to comfort Clint. "Hey! Why am I being punished?"

Thor looks triumphant, but apparently, Darcy's not done.

"Fine. Sit, or I'll convince Mew-Mew to not come the next time you call for her. You'll have to walk all the way over and get her, like a regular person."

It's Darcy's turn to look triumphant.

Thor's eyes narrow. "You wouldn't."

Darcy cocks her head and narrows her eyes right back, hands on her hips. "Try. Me."

It's a tense 17 second stand-off, but eventually Thor yields and the static-y energy that was luring the Hulk out of hibernation dissipates.

The rest of breakfast is excellent. Darcy coaxes Clint's head down onto her shoulder so he can nap some more while the coffeemaker rests.  Bruce wedges himself between Thor and Jane, figuring it's the safest place to be. Darcy won't try to kill him when he's surrounded by two of her best friends.

Probably.

Jane takes a plate out of the cabinet and piles it with waffles and bacon and covers it with a napkin for Clint for later. Bruce is touched, even though he knows it's not his place to be. Not anymore, at least.

Thor demolishes the rest of waffles and wisely doesn't smash any of the dishes on the ground. They make small talk. It's nice.

When the food is done and the dishes are washed, Darcy addresses the room.

"Bruce, why don't you show Jane your lab? I know she's feeling the itch by now. It's been, what? 20 hours without science? Go before her eyeballs pop outta their sockets. I'll make sure Hawkguy here gets caffeinated." She pats at Clint's arm.

"Har, har, har," Jane says, flatly. But she looks excited at the prospect of science. Who is Bruce to scoff in the face of Science?

Jane's and his fields don't really intersect, but they do know a lot about each others work simply because they're acquaintance's and it pays to be able to collaborate.

Once they explain enough of what they're talking about to Thor so he's able to bridge their knowledge with his own, it's a veritable party. They're running short on notebooks with all the notes their taking, and Bruce is wondering why they haven't been doing this the whole time they've known each other.

Bruce is inching forward to Skype Hank McCoy and add his brand of brilliance to the mix when Thor excuses himself to go get them all some lunch.

Bruce gets whiplash turning his head to look for a clock.

3:45 P.M.

_Shit._

He pushes his way past Thor, completely missing the look that Thor and Jane share.

He forgot Clint.

He forgot to make sure he ate.

He forgot to make sure that his tie was tied properly.

He forgot to make sure he made it down the street and out of his sightlines safely.

Science is where he feels safe, and having Jane and Thor around to bounce scientific theory off of is like an injection of hot chocolate and warm fuzzies on a cold night.

But this whole time that they've been in Illinois, they've been taking care of each other, sanding down their own jagged edges so that they could mesh more easily. There's no reasonable reason to throw all of that away with both hands because that's the easier way.

Bruce stumble/runs into the living room and wrenches the front door open.

The car is still in the driveway, the RV parked next to it.

He looks through all of the rooms, even the lab.

Eventually, he finds Clint and Darcy cuddled together on the bed.

Clint's eyes look unbearably sad when their eyes meet.

"Oh," is all Bruce can say.

It hits him like a fish to the face.

Of course. Darcy's here. It was never his place to treat Clint the way he's been doing for the last month and a half. Like a husband. Like a lover.

He's not wanted here. Not anymore.

He's always had confirmation.

So why was the Hulk howling in silent agony when they both knew it would never, could never work from the start?

Blessedly, blessedly, the doorbell chooses that moment to ring.

"I'll just..." he flicks a thumb towards the door and flees.

It's Ashleigh at the door. He doesn't know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or cry at the sight of her.

"Ashleigh! What brings you to our neck of the woods?" he asks, hoping that surprise can mask the heartbreak trying its foremost to be acknowledged.

"Cheryl called me this mornin'. She's awful worried about y'all, said she heard lotsa banging around earlier but didn't want to bother you in case it was nothin'. I was jus' droppin' the kids off at swimming lessons, and I saw y'all's car still here. I figured you probably had visitors over, but," she shrugs.

Tons of feelings are swirling around inside Bruce right now, but he's definitely still taken aback by how kind and protective she is of them, even after so short a time.

"Friends of ours from New York dropped in unexpectedly, so Ravi called in to work to get the day off."

She's satisfied by the answer and turns to go.

Don't ever let Bruce tell you he's not a masochist, because he reaches for her arm. " Would you like to come in, meet them?"

She smiles graciously and follows him into the house.

Bruce leads her to the lab and introduces her to Jane. Thor introduces himself as Dr. Donald Blake, and Bruce is definitely going to need to hear the story behind that. You know, when his world isn't falling apart faster than he can rebuild the foundations.

"So's, I suspect y'all's to be some a the friends that Amar and Ravi've been telling me about?"

Jane and Thor agree, and Bruce thanks his lucky stars that they can roll with the punches so easily.

They tell Ashleigh about their respective fields of work, and either she's genuinely interested or just really good at pretending that she is because she asks appropriate and thought-provoking questions at the right times.

Jane's answering a question about the difference between a worm hole and a black hole when Bruce texts Clint to clue him in to the situation on the off chance he didn't already know.

Clint sends back an "ok" and after a few minutes, he and Darcy appear in the doorway of the lab.

Clint greets Ashleigh like the old friends they practically are and Darcy introduces herself with all of her usual aplomb.

"Let's take this party to the living room. I have a feeling that the good doctor is getting antsy with so many people around his breakables," Darcy says with a wink.

He's definitely antsy. It definitely has nothing to do with his lab.

Everyone's nicely settled into the couches and making rather pleasant conversation when Darcy jumps up. Thor screeches to a stop in the middle of his carefully doctored recounting of how he met Darcy and Jane to see what caused the action.

"Ashleigh, if you could help me grab some refreshments for everyone?"

Ashleigh looks confused at the request, but complies anyway.

They're in the kitchen for longer than it should take to gather snacks, and when they make it back, Ashleigh sets her tray of sandwiches down before making her excuses and practically catapulting herself out of the door.

"Jane, Thor, they have the latest episode of Doctor Who DVR'd. Why don't you guys take Clint and go watch it?"

Everyone clearly hears the marching orders for what they are and clear out as soon as Thor grabs the sandwiches.

Which left just Darcy and Bruce to stare at each other.

Bruce squirms in his chair, unsure and not liking the feeling of being unsure.

He knows Darcy won't come at him with violence because she has a self-preservation streak a mile long.

But on the other hand, she's in the Hulk's Top 5, so he's not sure how that would play out if she _did_ attack him.

Not even Bruce is in the Hulk's Top 5.

Darcy steeples her fingers and looks him in the eye.

"I'm not angry," she says.

Bruce doesn't believe her for a second.

" _I'm not angry_ ," she repeats with more conviction. "I'm confused." Her eyes are wide and innocent.

Now Bruce is confused.

"Egghead in there is so obviously and desperately in love with you, and a mission comes along that dumps you somewhere that you guys can be banging like a screen door in a hurricane, practically uninterrupted. Only, there's no banging. Not even swaying in the breeze. What gives?"

He's not about to tell her about his non-existent sex life, so he deflects. "Listen, Darce. I know exclusive relationships aren't all that they used to be, but messing around with someone who's already involved gives me the skeeves." Which is true.

"Whose Clint in a relationship with? His bow?" she snorts.

"...You?" Oh, no. If Darcy didn't even know that she and Clint were a thing then Clint was more of a disaster than Bruce previously thought.

She's brought up short by that. " _Clint_ told you that?"

This conversation is going in every direction but the one he thought it would go in. "I mean, I asked about his feelings towards you and he got this dopey look on his face and said you're great, so I assumed."

"And what part of Egghead admitting to my greatness lead you to think that we're dating?"

Now Bruce is coming up short.

"But-" he doesn't really know what to say after that, so he doesn't say anything.

"Oh, Bruce. What's with you science types and lacking know-how about all the parts of life that really matter?"

Bruce sits there, staring at his hands. Darcy stares at him with a calculating look for minutes on end before she touches his hand in warning.

"CLNTON FRANCIS BARTON, GET YOUR ASS IN THIS LIVING ROOM. YOU GOT SOME 'SPLAINING TO DO!" she screams at the top of her lungs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> may Thor forgive me
> 
> the second half is going to take a while to get out, because it's clint's pov, and clint is a hopelessly emotional person, i think. emotions take f o r e v e r to write out, and even longer to edit into a readable format.


	12. Day 49: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pov switch to clint ahead

Clint saw Bruce as soon as he walked into the bedroom, of course he did.

He saw the panic in Bruce's eyes fade and get replaced with something terrifyingly similar to what Clint was feeling.

And wasn't _that_ just the most ridiculous notion?

He squeezes Darcy's hand where they're buried together in the blankets.

The doorbell rings before it can get anymore awkward and heartbroken and Bruce is out of the room like a shot.

Darcy sighs. "You guys really are perfect for each other. Way too many brains between the two of you and yet. Your both dumber than doornails." She squeezes his hand.

Clint groans, and she squeezes his hand tighter.

They turn their attention back to the show they were half-heartedly. After a while, his phone vibrates.

"Our neighbor's here," he tells her, moving to sit up.

Darcy waggles her eyebrows. "Are they hot?"

Clint pushes at her shoulder, because she's being ridiculous and because he appreciates the effort she's putting into keeping him in decent spirits.

"Yes, you horn-dog. But she's _happily_ married."

"That's never stopped you before."

Clint laughs loudly at that. There's the Darcy that he knows. Wouldn't pull a punch for you if you were the President of the United States.

"C'mon, you'll love her. She's from Georgia," he says with another nudge at her shoulder. They need to get out there before people think that Clint's avoiding them.

"Georgia the state or Georgia the country? I have vastly different opinions towards both," she asks.

Clint just laughs and drags her towards the lab.

"Francis, don't make me go in there blind!" she shouts with quiet fury and pinches viscously at his elbow.

Outside the lab, he slips on his game face. It's the one he developed when he was small and his parents were still alive, with walls so thick that they're neigh impenetrable.

Clint walks into the room like the Joe Shmoe that Ravi is and hugs Ashleigh. But Darcy. Oh, Darcy just  _has_ to glide into the room like a pageant queen and damn near charm the pants off of Ashleigh.

Darcy corrals them into the living room effortlessly, and he's starting to think that he shouldn't have introduced her to Natasha. They're so obviously terrible influences on each other.

He and Bruce sit separately and fuck. It's like missing a limb.

Ashleigh looks at the space between them, probably connecting the dots and painting a picture. She's whip-smart like that, Clint can tell. It's probably why Bruce likes her company so much.

Oh, god. Clint's surrounded himself with certifiable geniuses.

There's no way he's making it out of this alive. Natasha's out there, having a drink and a laugh at his expense, he's sure.

Darcy's getting antsy, the longer that this drags out. Don't get him wrong, she's giving as good as she gets conversation wise, but it's glaringly obvious that she's biding her time until she can enact whatever plans she has. She's fiddling with the hem of her sweater and she's cleaned her already clean glasses twice now.

He gives it no more than 2 minutes before she cracks.

A minute and 55 seconds later, Darcy's dragging poor Ashleigh into the kitchen.

Jeez, you send out _one_ tweet with a sad face emoji _one time_ , and suddenly it's the Spanish Inquisition. He'd be pissed that she thinks he can't handle himself if he wasn't secretly touched by it.

Natasha wouldn't go through so much effort. She really would just lock them in a closet.

Bruce looks confused by the turn of events, but only because he's not well-versed in the Ways of Darcy like the rest of them are.

Jane rolls her eyes, because she's the most used to this. Thor laughs and Clint joins him, laughing too, because fuck it. It's hilarious, when you give it some thought.

Darcy is like glitter. There's only two was to get rid of her: you wait until she's good and ready, or you scrape off the piece of skin she's attached herself to.

Bruce looks even more confused by their reactions.

Clint would fill him in, but Bruce already has front row seats. He'll figure it out soon enough.

"So, Ravi. Amar. How has your time here been?" Thor asks.

Clint's not fooled for one second. He can see Jane trying to discreetly text on the other side of Thor.

Bruce falls for it though, because of course he does.

When this is over- no matter which way it goes- Clint's going to give him a lesson on how to deal with these three.

There's no way someone so smart should walk into clearly labeled traps so readily.

"It's been pretty easy going. The neighbors are nice enough. Works been slow, though. It's not been very green, which is good," Bruce says cryptically.

Jane and Thor share a look like they know more than Clint and Bruce do. It makes Clint almost want to pull his hair out.

The silence lingers and stretches, becomes this insurmountable thing that leaves Clint reaching for his phone just so he had _something_ to do.

Thor whips his head towards the kitchen, and Clint follows his line of sight. Ashleigh's walking towards them with the determined steps of someone whose been assigned their mission, Darcy trailing behind her at a much more sedate pace.

"Y'all, it totally slipped my mind that lil' Mikey and Sarah have to get picked up early from swimming lessons to make it on time to Jordan's birthday today. I'll have to stop by another time so we can finish catching up. Darce, Dr. Foster, Dr. Blake, if I can't make it back before you go, it was nice meeting you. Now, if you'll excuse me," and she was out the door.

In short order, Darcy had everyone but herself and Bruce frog-marching out and to the bedroom.

Jane closes the door and presses her ear to it. Thor sighs, but Clint's not sure if it's because of Jane or because he just sunk into the mattress.

"Jane, it does no good to listen in on private matters," Thor says.

Jane turns towards him and crosses her arms under her chest for a second before relenting with a sigh. Thor makes grabby hands at her and she goes, melting into his side.

She pokes Thor in the ribs.

"Don't think I don't know that your totally listening in," she warns.

He laughs lightly. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," she smiles. "Keep me up-to-date on the pertinent information." She pokes him again.

He dips his head in a nod.

"Clint, stop being a stranger and get over here. Just because you're having boy trouble doesn't mean you're immune to the cuddle huddle," Jane throws out. She's getting almost as bossy as Darcy.

Clint chuckles and slides in next to Jane.

Thor finagles the tv like the pro he secretly is, his right arm stretched out for Jane and Clint to lay their heads on.

Clint turns off his ears. He kind of hates the show since what they did to Donna and only really watches it for the free cuddles.

He's drifting off into a nice nap when he feels a disturbance in the force. It's like a giant exclamation point is echoing through the air.

Sure enough, Jane pokes him in the side to get his attention.

He turns on his ears in time to hear, "-PLAINING TO DO!" in Darcy's desperately exasperated voice.

Clint looks at Thor and Jane, because he honestly doesn't know if he'll ever see them again. Nat introduced Darcy to Barnes. Anything is possible.

"The halls of Asgard will sing your praise," Thor says solemnly, like that has ever been a reassuring sentence to hear.

Jane pats his cheek in farewell before he makes his way to the living room to face the oncoming storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> darcy tried so hard to take over the pov, it was ridiculous. anyways, hopefully next time we can get through the emotional bit and get to the fun stuff again


	13. Day 49: Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for an ableist slur and self-depreciating speech

In the living room, Darcy is petting Bruce's hair and glaring daggers into the side of Clint's face. Bruce looks shell-shocked and Darcy looks pissed.

"Sit," Darcy commands and he immediately complies.

"Explain yourself," she orders next.

Clint's at a loss. He doesn't really know what he's here to explain.

Darcy must be in a particularly forgiving mood because she continues.

"Explain why you lead Bruce to believe we're an item."

Clint's about to contradict her since he never said that (and besides, Darcy has like seven potential suitors vying for her attention, all of whom could kick his ass 5 ways to Sunday) but Darcy steamrolls over him.

"Explain about how we initiated an Avengers-wide Science-free Saturday policy, and not because I was seriously missing some Jane-and-Darcy time as our platform stated, but because you were hankering for some Bruce-and-Clint time and were running out of viable excuses to go to the labs."

That was a good day. Tony- in all of his unwashed and sleepless glory- was not at all the ideal candidate to argue in favor of not being locked out of the labs one day a week. 

Darcy started talking again, dragging his attention back to the present.

"If you don't explain yourself _very_ soon, Clinton Francis Barton, you're getting kicked out of the cuddle huddle in favor of Bruce here. You know, someone who _actually_ deserves my epic cuddles."

Darcy's eyes soften, just a smidge.

"Now, I want you kids to work this out, preferably outside the hearing range of one hearing-enhanced god." She claps her hands together. "I assume that the lab has been soundproofed?"

"Yes," Bruce says at the same time Clint says "No."

Bruce looks up for the first time since Clint came into the living room and looks at him in confusion.

"The house itself is soundproof, but the individual parts of the house are not soundproofed from each other."

Bruce looks stricken.

"Oookay, then I'll wrangle the love-birds, and give you guys say, and hour? I think Bruce could get this done and dusted in 15 minutes, but you, Clint. You'll probably need more time to process."

Darcy fetches Jane and Thor and pushes them out the door. Thor gives Clint a thumbs up before the door gets closed in his face.

Bruce is back to staring at his hands and Clint wrings his hands in sympathy.

"So-" he starts but Bruce cuts him off.

"The other day, in the lab? You heard all that?" He's still staring at his hands.

"Hey." He waits for Bruce to actually look up to continue talking.

"There's no need to be embarrassed. Hell, I'm touched. Tell the Hulk that I'm definitely making us friendship bracelets. Matter fact, I'll tell him myself. Hulk, buddy. I know you're probably sleeping in there somewhere. But I got 4 words for you. You, Me, and Friendship Bracelets. Hope you like purple."

Clint makes sure to throw in a smile and a wink there at the end, because he really did appreciate it. How many people could say that the Hulk would kick someone's ass for them?

Bruce's eyes flash green, just fir a second.

"But really, you don't have to worry about it. People call me stupid all the time. It's no big deal."

Bruce's eyes weren't all the way back to brown before they become brilliantly green.

See, this is why S.H.I.E.L.D. should have a course on how to keep your mouth closed.

"Who exactly calls you 'stupid'?" Bruce asks. He still sounds like Bruce, which is always a good sign as far as property values are concerned.

"You know, people. They don't mean anything by it. I'm just the deaf dyslexic guy, not exactly the poster child MENSA would hope for. It's actually kinda useful, because I can play up on it on missions. Make people underestimate me, y'know?"

Clint scratches at his neck and when he looks up again, Hulk is sitting where Bruce was.

"Hey, Big Guy! Where'd Bruce go?" Clint's trying to take this all in stride, he really is, but he's going to need a solid 24 hours to process and make sense of the day's events.

Hulk taps his own forehead. "HERE. HE NEED TIME TO THINK, SO HULK COME OUT."

Clint walks over to give Hulk his customary hug when he steps on Bruce's ring. He pockets it for safekeeping.

Hulk tucks Clint into the crook of his elbow and pets at his hair with a giant finger. The couch creaks ominously under their combined weight.

"HULK ANGRY PEOPLE CALL CLINT STUPID, BUT BANNER MORE ANGRY THAN EVEN HULK." He sounds impressed.

Clint pats at the green expanse of Hulk's abs, because he doesn't know what to say to that.

Hulk snorts a laugh. "DARCY RIGHT. CLINT AND BANNER SILLY."

"Hey!" Clint swats at him. "That's not what you say to someone before they make you a jumbo sized friendship bracelet."

"HULK NEVER SAY HE WANT BRACELET. HULK STRONGEST THERE IS. DON'T NEED SILLY BRACELET."

Now it's Clint's turn to sound offended. "I'll have you know that friendship is magic."

Hulk thinks about that for a long minute.

He has the same forehead wrinkle as Bruce.

"BRACELET GIVE HULK MAGIC?"

"No, Big Guy. I was saying that what we have here," he points at the both of them, "is magic."

"HULK NEED MAKE NEW FRIEND. ONE THAT GIVES HIM REAL MAGIC POWER."

Clint scoffs. "Good luck finding someone cooler than me."

When Darcy pokes her head in the front door an hour later, it's to the sight of Clint talking to an astral projection of Stephen Strange. Something about imbuing bracelets with telekinetic powers. The Hulk keeps swatting at the projection, and Clint is trying to sit on both of the Hulks hands so that he'll stop.

"Doc, I gotta go. We'll talk when we get back to New York," he says before the projection dissapates into a wisp of blue smoke.

Clint climbs off of Hulks hands and looks at Darcy.

"I was coming in to say I ordered pizza for dinner and to see if you needed more time, but I can see we need more pizza and that I possibly gave you too much time."

"BANNER HIDE AND CLINT TRY DISTACT HULK WITH FAKE MAGIC," Hulk reports.

Darcy looks at Clint with the promise of slow death in her eyes before turning her attention to the Hulk.

"Will you be staying for dinner?"

Hulk nods. "BANNER NOT DONE HIDING AND THINKING."

"Gotcha. I'll call a second pizza place, to be on the safe side. Clint, gimme your card."

Clint sputters. "What? Why?"

She's already pulling out her phone. "I don't know if you know this, but I get paid substantially less than you do so- Hi, can I get 6 cheese pizzas?"

Hulk holds up 2 massive fingers.

"Sorry. Make that 8 cheese pizzas and a side of garlic knots." She rattles off the address. "Credit. Mm-hm, hold on one sec," she sticks her hand out expectantly, and Clint rummages through his wallet for the black work expenses card.

 She ends the call and stares at them before going back outside.

Over dinner, Hulk and Thor talk battle strategy. Clint joins in occasionally but mostly to shut Darcy down when she suggests things that sounds cool in theory but are hazardous in reality. Knowing Hulk and Thor, who are both practically indestructible and love a good fight, it's better to nip it in the bud before the suggestions take root.

Jane scribbles on greasy napkins and provides scientifical facts to back up Clint's claims.

Darcy blows the both of them raspberries.

It's a very successful meal, Clint would say. No one's been verbally threatened with physical harm except the bad guys, and those guys deserve to be knocked around anyways.

Darcy herds them like cattle again, but this time into the bedroom.

"Thor: man the tv. Jane: go get the cosmetics bag from the car. I think we all deserve a Spa Day."

They go off to do their tasks and Clint looks at her hopefully.

"What about me?"

She pokes at his chest with a viciously pointy finger. "You _definitely_ don't deserve a spa day, but you know I hate leaving anyone out of the fun. You're in charge of snacks."

Clint marches off to the kitchen, glad he didn't let Bruce talk him out of buying junk food. Darcy would never forgive him if he showed up with a veggie platter to Spa Day.

First on the agenda is nail painting and hair braiding since they require the most attention to detail.

Thor has the tv on "13 Going on 30" because his cinematic tastes are not unlike those of a teenage girl.

Jane does nails, because she has the most patience and does the best nail art. She paints everyone's toes but she doesn't paint Clint's or Hulk's fingernails because Clint never waits for them to dry and Hulk flat out refused to be incompacitated for any length of time.

Darcy braids hair, because she is part psychic and knows how to braid for optimal results the next morning. Clint's hair is too short to braid, though, so he braids her hair for her.

When he's done, he makes Thor pause the movie so he call his daily report in to Hill. Jane and Darcy have a very raunchy conversation in ASL to try and make him crack.

He almost does.

"You know," Jane says when they've resumed the movie and she's started painting Hulk's smallest left toe bright yellow, "the male lead kinda looks like Bruce."

Clint scrutinizes the screen. "Nah. The hair is all wrong. And he's too short."

Jane shrugs in a 'what can you do?' type of manner and moves on to the next nail.

When that movie ends, Thor puts on "Legally Blonde" which he likes so much that he insists that they watch the sequels.

"Legally Blonde 2 is passable, but I wouldn't really recommend the last one," Darcy warns as she starts applying face masks.

He remains adamant about seeing the trilogy through.

"At least your skin will look flawless in the morning," Darcy tells the glum thunder god after the last movie's conclusion.

"Aye," he answers, but he doesn't sound cheered.

Darcy starts packing everything back into the cosmetics bag. "Alright, it's past 3, time for bed. I'll take the lab so that the lab runs a chance to remain uncontaminated."

Jane glares. "That was one time, you could have knocked, and it was my own lab!"

"Yeah? Well try being me! I'll never be able to look at a spreadsheet the same again!"

The rest of their argument is lost to Clint when she pulls the door closed after them.

"I'd say you're welcome to share the bed, but you kinda already ruined the sofa in the living room so..." Clint scratches at his neck.

Hulk snorts a laugh. "HULK NO NEED SLEEP. HULK ALWAYS SLEEP. BANNER AWAKE, HULK SLEEP. HULK WATCH MORE TV, CLINT SLEEP," he says with a firm nod. 

Clint climbs under the blankets under Hulk's watchful gaze.

Hulk pats at the blankets on top of Clint until he's tucked in as tight as a bug in a rug.

"Thanks, Hulk. I put the tv on Animal Planet, your favorite."

Hulk nods and turns his attention to the screen.

Clint doesn't fall asleep immediately. He never does at night.

He's drifting off fitfully to the apparent artistry of swamp fishing when Hulk speaks.

"BANNER SAY HULK TELL CLINT TAKE OUT EARS," he says in what passes for a whisper.

"Tell Bruce that he's a genius," Clint says. After that, he's out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why, *why* are these goobers my favorites?? they couldn't have a straightforward conversation about feelings if i paid them to


	14. Day 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a new chapter 5, so go check it out. clint takes bruce out on a date that neither of them will call a date back during the time when things were way simpler between them
> 
> pov changes to darcy at the very end, because she had to tell the last part

Clint shudders awake and the utter silence feels suffocating like it always does.

He turns to look at the left half of the bed, Bruce's half. Instead of Bruce's sleeping form, he sees Hulk huddled in on himself, bathed in technicolor backsplash from the tv.

He falls asleep easily after that. Not that he would ever admit it, but having Hulk around afforded him things that having Bruce around wouldn't. He didn't need to do a compulsory sweep of the house and it's security systems, because he knows Hulk basically has it covered.

Clint shudders awake a couple more times as the night progresses, like he always does. Sometimes Hulk notices, sometimes he doesn't. When he does notice, he pets at Clint carefully with one giant finger and looks at him with an expression that a sleep-starved Clint can't decipher.

He wakes up and he sees Darcy speaking with Hulk. He can't hear them, and he decides he doesn't want to. He goes back to sleep.

Something big barrels into Clint's abdomen and he bolts upright. He surveys his surroundings, taking in every detail of the room and its contents. The sky outside is a pale baby blue.

He looks at Hulk. Hulk taps at his own ears and waits for Clint to put in his hearing aids.

"What'supbigguy?"

"DARCY SAY HULK TELL CLINT GO TO LAB."

And because he's not fully awake just yet, he falls for it.

He helps Hulk duck/waddle through the doorway of the bedroom and then through the doorway of the lab without damaging either and he finds himself face-to-face with Darcy.

Beautiful, humanitarian Darcy who's holding a steaming mug of coffee and hands it to him as soon as their both sure his hand-eye coordination is up to the challenge.

"What's up?" Clint asks when his thoughts are in a semi-coherent order.

""What's up' is that Bruce has been hiding long enough that I'm considering filing a missing persons report." Oh, no. Clint knew he should have went back to sleep when it wasn't one of his own nightmares waking him up.

"So," Darcy says loudly, like she knows where Clint's thoughts are spiraling towards. "Hulk and I came to an agreement. You and Bruce are going to talk. I'm taking the love ducks out to Chi-town to the Adler Planetarium, don't expect us back until well after the streetlights come back on. Moves had better been made by then, Agent Barton, or you will feel the my wrath."

And then cruel, merciless Darcy shut the door to the lab with a resounding _click_.

Clint looks up at Hulk and takes a sip of coffee.

"Well-"

He's cut off by the sound of Hulk mangling the door handle.

"What the actual fuck, Hulk?!" Somehow, someone would find a way to take that out of his paycheck.

Hulk snorts a laugh and suddenly Bruce is standing in front of Clint.

Clint looks away so that Bruce can put on some clothes. Bruce isn't naked, he's wearing those stretch shorts that make his thighs look muscular and utterly enticing, but it's the right thing to do.

Morally, at least.

Bruce clears his throat when he's appropriately clothed, and they look at each other.

Well, Clint looks at Bruce. Bruce looks at a spot over his shoulder.

"Breakfast?" Clint offers. Bruce must be _starving,_ and Darcy had the good grace and common sense to at least leave them food.

Bruce looks at the spot over his shoulder with gratitude, so Clint dishes out the food in short order. He makes sure to give Bruce a Thor-sized portion.

Bruce squints at his food like it's alien and that's when Clint remembers.

"Here ya go, Doc," he fishes out the spare set of glasses that he has and slides them over to Bruce.

"I don't know where you're main pair went, so I guess these'll have to do until we find them." He scratches at his neck.

"Thank you," Bruce says, quietly, as he puts them on.

He still hasn't looked at Clint.

They eat in silence. Clint's on his third mug of coffee when he decides now's as good a time as any to throw caution to the wind.

"Y'know, I'll be frank with you for a minute. I don't understand all the fuss. You turned me down. Very nicely, I might add. Didn't beat me into a pulp or anything. Why does everyone think that there's something that needs to be fixed between us?"

Bruce freezes for a full second before looking at that spot over Clint's shoulder again.

"You... asked me out?" Bruce is trying for nonchalance, but he's failing. Miserably.

"Well, I mean, not in as many words," he's rubbing at his neck again. "I mean, I've had a crush on you for the longest time. But after mimosas, and then I overheard, and I thought 'hey, maybe Bruce might be able to fall for this dummy like this dummy fell for Bruce."

Bruce reaches up and grabs his hand, stops it from wearing a hole into the back of his neck with how he keeps scratching at it.

"Hey."

Clint looks at him.

"You're not dumb." Clint's about to argue with that- he knows he's plenty dumb. His pa said so, and while Clint doesn't trust his authority, he does trust Barney. And Barney told him plenty how dumb he is.

" _You're not dumb_." Bruce says. "You're not."

They sit in silence.

Bruce still has Clint's hand in his.

"But that's not how you show intention, Clint. You can't beat around the bush and speak in half-truths and expect me to understand exactly what you mean."

Clint feels like someone's sitting on his chest. Maybe the Hulk. It feels like a heavy enough feeling.

"Hey, I'm not trying to lecture you. I'm just saying that that's not how romantic relationships are built. Well, not solid ones anyways."

Clint laughs, and it's a bitter sound. But don't you get it? No one taught him how to build a relationship. If they had, they'd have told him how to enjoy sex, instead of feeling like it was a chore to be done. If they had, maybe he'd know how to talk about things straight on, instead of having to be tricked into it.

If they had, maybe he'd still be married to Bobbi.

"But you know, if you asked me out now, like actually asked me out, who knows? I might say yes."

Clint scans Bruce for the lie that he's sure that's there.

 Instead, he only sees honest honesty.

"So, if I, Clint Barton, asked you, Bruce Banner, to date me, you'd say yes? Just like that?"

Bruce squeezes his hand, and Clint would have forgotten that Bruce was even holding it if the touch wasn't the only thing that was making him believe any of this was real.

"We're already married, dating wouldn't be too much of a stretch of the imagination."

Clint smiles, sun-bright.

They finish eating in silence, one-handedly. It's a good silence.

 Bruce organizes the refuse into piles. Clint paws through the food they have left.

"Darce left us enough food for a week. Hopefully, that doesn't mean that we'll be stuck in here for a week, but they went to the Adler, so I wouldn't hold out hope."

Bruce dumps stuff into the tiny trash can on the side of his desk. "The planetarium? I've always wanted to go."

Clint lays on the couch. "Why didn't you have Hulk tell Darce? She woulda let you go because she actually likes you."

Bruce sits by Clints head, so he shifts them around until they're both sprawled out and comfortable, his head pillowed on Bruce's thigh.

Bruce cards his hand through Clint's hair for a while.

"I, uh. Was actually checked out from the outside world. Went to my room and closed the door, so to speak."

Clint looks at him through his eyelashes. "So you missed everything? Spa day, Thor's pouty face at _Legally Blondes_? Everything?"

"Well, if you guys watched _Legally Blondes,_ I obviously made the right choice." Clint swats at his thigh and Bruce laughs.

"That explains why my toes are painted like the solar system," Bruce muses.

~~~

By the time Darcy, Jane, and Thor make it back to Bruce and Clint's house, the streetlights have been on for hours.

"Shhh!" Thor's clomping around like its mid-afternoon instead of midnight. Totally not conducive with doing super-stealthy sneaking.

Thor nods his head once and puts on his serious face. The one he uses when he has to scare some low-level S.H.I.E.L.D. agent into giving Jane back whatever they took from her this time.

Jane's already ghosted across the house and is waiting for them impatiently by the door to the lab.

'What took you so long?' Jane asks through a furrow of her eyebrows and a roll of her eyes.

'You're lovable giant of a boyfriend, that's who' Darcy answers back with a jerk of her head and a purse of her lips.

They both look at Thor expectantly.

He shakes his head like he's just humoring them in this endeavor, but they all know that he's just as much a gossipmonger as they are.

Thor grips the door handle and pulls it off as cleanly and quietly as he can.

Inside, Clint and Bruce are curled into each other on the couch. Bruce's laptop displays a message from Netflix, asking if they were still watching.

Darcy takes pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.

Thor comes over with a blanket and drapes it over them gently.

They all hold their breaths, but neither of them so much as twitch.

Jane herds them out the door before anything ruins their perfect slumber.

"You already know Clint's going to break into your phone and delete all copies of those pictures," Jane says once they're outside again and can talk at normal volume.

Darcy shrugs. "He doesn't know about the pictures I took on your phone."

Thor laughs, shocked and proud.

Jane tries to look grumpy, but Darcy can tell sees secretly impressed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise! unwittinglyace!clint makes a debut and i cackle off into the sunset.
> 
> next up: a double date of sorts


	15. Day 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good news: i’m back! through a drawn out series of bartering i saved up enough to get myself a brand new, knock-off laptop charger! sorry about the long wait.
> 
> i think we’re firmly back into bruce’s pov from here on out. clint is my fave, but thinking like him is *exhausting*.

Bruce wakes up reluctantly because he has to pee and his bladder is threatening mutiny if he doesn’t do something about it Right Now.

He looks and, yes. The door is open.

Hallelujah. He was tired of peeing in soda bottles.

Clint’s still asleep, nestled into Bruce’s chest and limbs sprawled put everywhere like the barnacle Bruce suspected him to be.

He’s careful when he extricates himself. Not because Clint’s going to wake up if jostled, but because he can.  He leans down and places a feather light kiss on Clint’s hair before walking stiffly to the bathroom.

There’s commotion coming from the kitchen, so he assumes that their guests are still in.

Hopefully they made breakfast.  Last night they had to warm up dinner on a bunsen burner and as enlightening as the experience proved, it left him yearning for consistently heated food.

Jane and Darcy are sitting at the table and in a surprising turn of events, it’s Thor who’s manning the stove.

“Good morning, all,” he says awkwardly, rubbing at his neck. He makes a beeline for the kettle and doesn’t see the face Darcy makes at Jane. Or the 10 dollar note she slips her.

“Bruce! Sit, sit! Today, I prepare delicacies from _my_ home while _you_ sit.” Thor looked pleasantly smug and pointed towards the table.

“Have a sip of this!” Once he sits, Darcy shoves a steaming cup of something under his nose and he takes a sip against his better judgement.

He chokes. “Whoa, what is that? Motor oil?” His heart is already pumping with adrenaline.

“Nope! That’s Thor’s coffee! He only makes it when he cooks breakfast and he only cooks breakfast when he wants to eat prematurely! Here! Have a smorgasbord! I thought it was just a word but it’s the name for a sandwich! A sandwich!”

Jane pats her hand. “Sweetie, you need to have a sandwich. The caffeine is soaking into your system too quickly.”

“No, YOU need to have a sandwich!”

Jane looks at Bruce. “I’m so sorry.”

Bruce makes himself a sandwich from the provided materials while he waits for the kettle to whistle.  “It’s okay. I’m used to very quiet breakfasts, but this is fine too.”

Darcy leans across the table and places a big, whopping smack of a kiss on Bruce’s cheek. 

“Turns out Clint sure knows how to pick ‘em! Who knew? Welcome to the family.”

She cackles at Bruce’s shocked face.

“Now, now, Lightning Sister.” Thor sets down a bowl heaping with porridge and a platter of meats on the table. “Their union is still but a freshly planted seed. Do not put your foot into Clint’s mouth before he has time to do it to himself.” He sets down another serving bowl full of porridge.

The table was starting to groan in distress.

Darcy looks contrite, but only for as long as Thor looked at her with those puppy dog eyes. As soon as he looked away, her gaze became calculating.

“I think it’s about time you start the process of Waking Up Clint™.  I have Plans planned and unfortunately, he needs to be awake for them.”

Jane elbows her for it but Bruce doesn't take offense. If this- any of this- is going to work, then he's going to have to accept all of them as Clint's found family,quirks and all. He throws out the used tea leaves and fills an empty mug with a swallow or two’s worth of coffee to bring to the sleeping beauty.

He doesn’t even have to wave the mug around under Clint’s nose before he's reaching for it.

“Thor made breakfast?" Clint sits up slowly, clutching the mug like it holds the answer to life.

“How’d you know?” 

Clint stretches his arms above his head and manages not to rain hot caffinated death upon himself.

He takes a small, smacking sip from the cup. “I could smell it soon as he put the pot on.”

Bruce sits, closer than he normally would, but still giving Clint his space because he’s  not exactly sure.

“Why’re you still in here then?”

“Because then I’d have to do this in front of an audience.” He pecks softly at Bruce’s lips with his own. It tinges Bruce’s lips with the thick taste of the coffee, but he can’t find it in himself to be put off by it.

“Was that okay?”

It took Bruce a minute to figure out what Clint was referring to. 

“Oh! Um, yeah. That was completely fine.”

Clint smiled sleepily and pecks at the exact spot Darcy had kissed earlier.

Once he finishes the coffee that’s only supposed to last long enough to get him on his feet and moving about, Bruce drags him to his feet and practically carries him into the kitchen.

Darcy greets their arrival with her camera at the ready.

“You know I’m just going to delete those, right?” Clint says once he’s had a full mug of coffee and is working on his second bowl of porridge.

She shrugs and Bruce just knows she’s hiding an ace up her sleeve.

Thor slides another plate in front of Clint and claps him on the back before sitting next to Jane.

“Is that, a fish sandwich?” He doesn’t even want to know where the fish came from or when Thor had the time to cook a fish.

“A tomato sauce, fish, and cucumber sandwich,” Jane answers with a wrinkled nose. 

Clint hums in bliss.

“Thor made it for everyone during one of those superhero unity meet-ups once. The big lug was soo excited, it was actually really sad when everyone had to tell him that they taste tragi-bad. Well, everyone except Clint and, surprisingly, Spidey.” Darcy explained while she pieced together another smorgasbord sandwich from the tables offerings.

Thor huffs good naturedly before digging back into his own plate of food.

“So, what’s the Plan?” Jane asks after a while of contented silence.

“The Plan, my #1 fan, is to get our butts in gear so we can get over to the Museum of Science and Industry. A supervised double-date, if you will. And we need to get going before rush hour kicks our collective asses.”

Clint snorts into his coffee. Bruce smiles fondly at the memory.

“Have you been already?” Darcy looks between them suspiciously.

“No, no. It’s just that that’s what this one,” he gestures to Clint, “says everytime he makes plans for us to go into the city.” Bruce knows how those trips always go, but he can only imagine how this will turn out with more people added to the mix.

The rest of breakfast passes quickly, with Darcy’s significant glances at clocks and Thor plying them with plate after plate of food until the serving dishes are barren. 

They speak more about Bruce and Clint’s mission, which still hasn't amounted to much of anything yet.

“Well, they wouldn’t send you out here for this long unless it was something important,” Jane reasons magnanimously. 

Bruce isn’t so sure.

“Clint’s driving,” Darcy announces once they’re all outside. 

Clint shrugs and climbs into the drivers seat.

Thor gets shotgun since he takes up the most space physically, which leaves Bruce, Jane, and Darcy to squash into the backseat.

Darcy hands Clint a CD that she pulls out of thin air. 

He freezes when he reads the label.

“You sure about this?” They’re having two conversations, one with their mouths, and another with their eyes.

“Are you?” she challenges.

Clint turns around and takes a deep breath before popping the CD into the player and pulling the car out of the driveway.

Darcy turns to Bruce. “I trust that by now you’re aware of Brittney Howard and all of the good she does in the world?” 

Thor hums along to the low-energy music pulses through the car.

Bruce nods.

“Welcome to the Falsetto Club.” She sticks out her hand and he shakes it in confusion.

“You’re not obligated to join us, since we don’t necesarrily have your tunes on deck, but this is a Sacred Thing for us, right up there with Spa Days and Thor’s coffee. If you feel the call to join in, you’re more than welcome.”

The next hour of Bruce’s life is something of an Experience in and of itself.

The Falsetto Club is, essentially, karaoke.

Jane, Darcy, and Thor sing along to a song about superheroes. They perform it so devastatingly well they must have done it at least a dozen times. Clint sings in what sounds like Icelandic, so beautifully that it made Bruce wish he understood the language. Thor sings more than one Prince song. More songs came on that Bruce isn’t strictly familiar with but enjoys nonetheless. Jane sings a song that was so explicit it made Bruce blush. And of course, Alabama Shakes pops up at random intervals, each of the four taking their turn as lead singer.

They didn’t always hit all the notes, but Bruce knew that that wasn’t the point. The point was the warm fuzzy feeling he could feel growing in his chest. The fondness he felt for his companions. The joy that their joy inspired in him.

Darcy gives him a thumbs up when he sings along to the chorus of Bohemian Rhapsody.

Eventually, they make it to Chicago and to the museum. Clint pays the eyewateringly high parking fee and they pile out into the unbriddled sunshine.

“Ravi! Amar!” Bruce freezes like he’s been caught with his pants down. Clint effortlessly loops an arm around his waist and guides the two of them over to where Ashleigh stands with her family on the sidewalk.

“What a surprise to see you here!” It really, really was.

“Darcy invited us, and its always good to expose the kids to culture.”

Clint throws a look at Darcy like a dagger, but she’s too busy buying admission tickets to feel the full weight of it.

“You realize that this is a museum of Science and Industry, right? Not very exciting topics for kids.” This was getting dangerously close to the limit of what Brice could handle.

Ashleigh shoves at his arm playfully. “You’re a scientist! You’re s’posed to encourage interest in the sciences!”

“I plead the 5th,” he says as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

Clint laughts and squeezes his waist.

“What’d we miss?” Darcy's sauntering over, weilding a smirk like a weapon. Jane and Thor trail after her at an even more sedate pace, heads bent towards each other as they talk.

“Amar,” Clint says, like that was any kind of an answer.

Darcy nods sagely and Bruce would have been left sputtering in the dust if Clint didn’t pull him along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything thor cooks I pulled from various scandinavian breakfast recipes. I’m sure that the fish sandwich thing tastes amazing but I’m prejudiced against the scaly bastards, so.
> 
> some songs that bruce didn't know the name to because he is woefully undercultured:  
> -"super heros" from rocky horror picture show  
> -"heysátan" by sigur rós  
> -"touch my body" by mariah carey  
> -whatever other songs you guys think they would sing
> 
> Will post up the second half to this chapter as soon as I finish writing it on paper and then converting it to digital.


	16. Day 51: Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did that thing where i actually plotted out the rest of the chapters, so there's 5 more after this one, and they are- for the most part- written.
> 
> this chapter is slightly crack-y. proceed with caution.

When they exit the flight simulator, Jane’s waiting for them.

She eyes their dazed expressions. “What happened?”

As a group, they look at Clint.

“It wasn’t my fault,” he mumbles out.

“Oh, no honey. What did you do?” 

It was a non-controllable flight simulator. She _needed_ to know what happened.

“I didn’t do anything!” he huffs out.

He stews in sullen silence for a moment before tacking on, “How was I supposed to know you aren’t supposed to press the buttons!”

“The video at the beginning _clearly_ _states_ that you’re not supposed. To. Press. The. Buttons!!!” Darcy looks beyond exasperated. 

Jane’s never actually seen that look not directed towards herself. It was an enlightening experience.

“I thought it was a fake-out!” he whines.

“ThIS is a museum! You can’t touch the things that they say you can’t touch!”

“Well, I know that now.” He scuffs the floor with his shoe.

“I, for one, was impressed. He managed to call down the thunder of the gods during the simulation. It was quite the spectacular show.” Thor was trying to defuse the tension, but he didn't actually making it sound any better.

Jane turns to Darcy for clarification.

“Egghead here was going around pressing buttons we were _explicitly_ told _not_ to press, and _somehow_ , our simulated plane was struck by lightning before plummeting towards the earth,” Darcy spat out.

“I said I was sorry!” Clint tries.

“I saw my _life_ flashed before my _eyes_! You probably scarred Ashleigh’s kids for life.”

They turn to where Ashleigh’s family is standing a little ways away.

“It was great, Mr. Singh! I’ve never seen Daddy cry before,” little Sarah exclaimed.

“Yeah! Can we go again?!” Mikey asked excitedly.

“No, you’re all banned from the simulators for the rest of the day!” the ride attendant screamed from their position in front of the rides.

Darcy threw her hands in the air and stormed away.

After that, they try to keep a low profile for the rest of their trip.

They watch the Omnimax screening at 10, which gives Darcy just enough time to calm down and stop trying to kill Clint with her mind. 

The group doesn’t stay as one group after the movie. They branch off, splitting off to explore the different attractions with a plan to meet up again at 3 in front of the world’s largest pinball machine.

Bruce sticks with Clint, because it’s the best place to be to put out fires before they start. The kids go with them, because they want to see some fires get started.

Everyone else wanders off to get their joy. Or peace of mind. It was hard to tell.

“Lookie here, see. I’m Steve Rogers, and these are my streets!” Clint shouts, making the exaggerated walking patterns of silent film actors as the walk down the recreated cobbled street scenes of Chicago in 1910. The kids giggle and argue about who gets to be Bucky Barnes.

By the time they go on the submarine tour, word has spread about Clint’s misdeeds and there’s a security guard tailing them on the tour, making sure he doesn’t touch anything onboard.

They’re not even allowed within 10 feet of the Lego exhibit.

At 3 o’ clock sharp, Bruce herds them over to the outrageously large pinball machine.

“Okay, assorted friends and family. Time for Phase 2,” Darcy announces once they’re all gathered together.

She must see the look on his face, because Darcy laughs and says, “Calm down! I totally got this!”

That doesn’t provide Bruce with as much peace of mind as she seems to think it should.

Bruce eyes Ashleigh critically when she doesn’t have any outward reaction to the recently announced Phase 2.

“You were in on this?”

She scoffs delicately. “Of course I was. I wouldn’t bring my kids along if I knew it would be a bad idea.”

They shuffle over to the car but stop short of actually getting in. Darcy has Clint pop the truck, and she pulls out large tote bags that Bruce never actually saw her put in the car.

“Big Guy, be a dear and carry these?” She holds out the bags expectantly.

Thor grabs them and the combined team of Darcy-and-Ashleigh herd the group to the nearby train station.

After the train ride, switching lines, and another train ride,  Ashleigh takes the lead, weaving their group through the streets with a practiced ease.

Clint, being the decent spy he is, subtly takes in their surroundings, and never once lets on that he’s curious about where they’re going.

They come to a stop in front of an expansive park.

“Ta-DA!!!” Darcy shouts, jazz hands thrown freely into the air.

Beside him, Clint’s gasping for air.

“I can’t believe it!” he squeak-whispers.

“You better believe it, bitch!” she yells back and strikes a pose.

Everyone else walks away, probably to distance themselves from the small spectacle Clint and Darcy were creating. Bruce would have went with them, but Clint has his hand in a vice-like grip.

“Is there something special about this park?” Bruce asks gently.

Clint looks at him, bewildered. “Babe. BaBE. It’s _Lincoln Park_.”

Bruce nods at the sign. “ Yes, I can see that. Do you just really like Abraham Lincoln, or?”

He’s kind of wondering where the pet-name came from all of a sudden, but he’ll deal with that later.

“Babe, they named this park after the famous band, Linkin Park.”

“I don’t think that they name parks after bands, no matter how famous they are.”

“I’m pretty sure that if you had heard of this band, you would have named your park after them,” Darcy scoffs.

Bruce acquiesced, because he doesn’t actually know anything about the band or the park.

Clint smiles widely. “Can you take our picture?”

Bruce takes Clint’s picture, then Darcy’s, then both of their’s before Darcy plucks the phone out of his hands and takes his and Clint’s picture in front of the park sign.

"Aww, Bruce. You look so cute!" Darcy gushes, scrolling through the pictures as they walk over to where their friends have laid out a picnic.

“There y’all are!” Ashleigh exclaims when they sit. “We almost sent out a search party.”

“There’s no bands named ‘Lincoln Park'," Bruce says once he's done some discreet google searches on the subject.

“Well, that’s probably because you spelt it wrong,” Clint answers sensibly. 

“No, I’m pretty sure I spelt it correctly.”

“Did you spell it L-I-N-K-I-N?”

“No?”

“Then you spelt it wrong,” Clint shrugs.

“They changed the spelling of their name to L-I-N-K-I-N Park when they couldn’t secure the domain name for L-I-N-C-O-L-N Park dot com,” Darcy threw in before turning back to her conversation with Ashleigh’s husband about, of all things, carburetors.

Bruce just blinks.

He wasn’t ready for the war that would break out if he tried to correct them.

He knew he would never be ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The flight simulator part is inspired by a panel from loki: agent of asgard #1, wherein while playing a bass fishing simulator, clint somehow , and I quote: “You have the army after you and no health and you’re falling out of a crashing plane”.


	17. Day 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a short chapter this week kids. i hope everyone's doing well and taking care of themselves, in light of recent events

It’s late the next night, after they’ve spent the day in together goofing off and being brilliant by strokes, that Darcy announces their departure.

“It’s been fun, Snugglebutts, but unfortunately, I have a hacking empire to get back to.”

“Aww, do you have to?” Clint asks, clutching her to his side.

“Why, Clinton.” She gasps. “If I don't tend to my memes, who will?” She fans herself with her hand like a southern mistress.  “Also, Jane misses doing astrophysics in her own lab.”

Bruce nods. “Of course.” Not being around your own work’ll do that to you.

Bruce and Clint hugs them all in increasingly complicated configurations. At some point, Bruce swore his elbow was in Thor’s armpit.

They walk them out to the driveway, and wait for them to drive away before heading back in.

“Don’t fuck this up or we’ll just come baaaaaaccccckkkkk!!!” Darcy yells out the window.

A laugh bubbles out of Bruce, because he knows that they definitely would.

Clint waves until they turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

When they go back outside, they look at each other, and at the emptiness Jane, Darcy, and Thor left behind after their few short days there.

Clint checks the time on his phone.

“It’s 10, we can watch the evening news?” he offers.

Bruce pushes his glasses up his nose, stalling for a second. 

“I, uh. Actually hate the news?” 

Clint blows a harsh breath out of his mouth.

“Thank god. I was dying in there.”

“Let’s just watch some stuff that’s already on the DVR?” Bruce suggests. “What about Doctor Who?” He remembers someone talking about the show recently.

“I actually hate Doctor Who?” Why were they talking in questions?

Bruce huffs a laugh. “Thank god. The newer stuff is overly complicated, takes the fun right out.”

Clint looks deeply into his eyes.

“Where have you been all my life?””

“Ohio. Well, and India. Brazil, Los Angeles, Harlem that one time,” he says to cut anything that might have been building up. Not until they talk about it.

Clint just laughs and laces their fingers together.


	18. Day 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long! i had to work on this one a lot. i'm still not completely fine with it yet but o well  
> enjoy :,)

Time passes gradually, without incident, and Bruce starts to think that maybe you can have it all. Or, at least a good chunk of it.

"Wear your cutest khaki pants today. I'll leave work early and we can go out on the town," Clint says. They're eating, oatmeal topped with fresh fruit and a side of breakfast sausage.

"And which pair would those be, exactly?"

"Any pair," Clint says with a sleepy smile. His hair's still mused from sleep and he's can't open his eyes past a slit. 

Bruce hides his smile behind his mug. Best not to encourage the man any further to shirk his responsibilities.

"What about the mission?" he asks, not much force behind the argument.

Clint scoffs softly. "We've been here for two months and haven't found whatever it is they sent us in for. I think I can call in early today without calling a apocalyptic disaster upon our heads."

Bruce chooses not to mention Murphy's Law, just in case mentioning it would activate its power.

Clint pecks him a kiss before they go outside at 9:00. They've never had to kiss in front of the neighbors, citing cultural differences when asked. Kissing is a thing only for them.

Exactly as it should be.

"Was that okay?"

Bruce nods and gently pushes Clint out the door. Clint's proclivity for asking for retroactive consent is adorable and weird and absolutely would not stand in any court worth it's salt. But Clint is trying in his own way, and he's not going to go around stopping him.

He promises to be back by 2, which gives Bruce 5 hours to fret over what it is they could possibly be doing.

In the past weeks, Clint's taken them on more and more day trips and dates. Once, he drove them out to Rockford just so Bruce could visit the Anderson Japanese Gardens. Another time, Clint wakes him up early and lets his sleep in the car on the ride up to Six Flags. He doesn’t make Bruce go on any of the roller coasters, but absolutely insists that they go on the spinning teacup ride. When they leave, they drive up to Milwaukee so he could get some “authentic cheese”.

Clint’s words, not Bruce’s.

Suffice to say, pretty much anything is possible and Bruce desperately hopes for the day he stops feeling like a teenager when it comes to Clint.

But today is not that day.

He reads scientific journals and worries over his experiments until it becomes clear that he's doing more harm than good.

Today's adventure, it seems is Mexican food. It's the kind of place that only has three tables and meticulously cleaned floors, and Clint greets the cashier by name.

The food is, of course, excellent. The company isn't bad either. 

When Clint wanders off to find the bathroom Bruce gets a text.

_ [Private Number]: have u kissed yet or r u still playing footsie? xx _

He deletes the message, eyeing his phone and surroundings critically. Of course, it could be a coincidence, but coincidences have never been kind to him.

Clint slides easily into the seat across from him and notices his hyper-alert gaze. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing." He exhales. "Well, I drank the rest of you horchata."

Even if they was being surveilled by them, whoever they were, he wasn't going to let them ruin the night.

Clint laughs and lets it drop.

"Well, now you gotta buy me a whole new one."

 

They're almost home when Bruce starts thinking about that stupid text again.

He waits until they're at the stop sign close to home and the urge is almost overwhelming to broach the subject.

"So... I think we should kiss."

Clint stops humming along to whatever song was playing and turns down the volume.

"I thought we've been kissing this whole time."

There's a note of panic in his voice that Bruce is going to have to stamp out, no matter how embarrassed he feels talking about it.

"No, like-" and he cuts himself off. 

How do you describe the kind of kiss that leaves your toes curling and your heart rate sky high without sounding like someone who spends too much time reading bodice rippers?

"Ahh."

Clint sighs and rubs at his neck after he pulls the car into a stop in their driveway.

“You’ve heard about my past relationships, right?”

Bruce hadn’t actually wanted to say anything about it, because it’s not really his business, but he knew it was bound to come up eventually. 

“Yeah, I’ve heard a little.” Massive understatement, but he doesn't want to make this anymore difficult than it has to be.

“Hah!" A bitter, bitter sound. Bruce wants to kiss it away, but that was kind of the reason behind the discussion.  " Yeah, that’s probably already too much.

“Well, in all of my past relationships, I kinda always jumped in dick-first and they never really worked out, and I kinda want to take this slow enough that it actually works out.”

Bruce has hearts in his eyes. He can feel it.

“Well, you know. A Kiss isn’t exactly jumping in dick-first.” He only trips a little over saying the word 'dick'.

“Yeah?” He licks his lips unconsciously and Bruce’s eyes track the movement in the dim light.

“Well, in my professional opinion, yes. I would say Kisses are fine.” 

Clint looks him up and down.

“I thought you weren’t that kind of doctor?”

Bruce shrugs with a small smile.

Clint leans closer.

“You still sure?” They’re faces are only a breath away.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

Clint kisses like a teenager: more gusto than form, although his form isn't half bad.  When they part, Bruce touches the ghost of Clint’s lips on his.

“Wow.” There isn't much else to say. 

Just. Wow.

“Hey, I didn’t get my reputation for being a strumpet by being _bad_ at kissing."


	19. Day 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two updates in two days, i am amazed with myself

“...Hello?”

Clint was calling him. In the middle of the day. Clint was calling him in the middle of the day and Bruce is worried because Clint is only semi-unprofessional. Clint believed in certain things like the sanctity of deep cover and not making extraneous contact unless it was Important.

“You need to get down here.”

Well, at least that ruled out Clint having died. If Clint was dead-

No. Now was not the time to become a defeatist.

“And where is ‘here’ exactly?”

A short pause. “Right. I’ll send you the address.”

“How serious is it?” He’s tugging on his shoes, a crick in his neck forming from how hard he’s pressing the phone between his cheek and shoulder.

“I can’t tell exactly. It looks bad but it could also be one of those smoke-and-mirrors type of deals, which is where your second opinion comes in.”

Bruce walks outside.

“Wait, you have the car.”

Clint curses under his breath. “You’re right. I... guess it can wait until tomorrow.”

“How about you find out what you can and you can come by and we’ll go later tonight if you still think it’s serious.” 

And then Clint, who so obviously lives with his heart on his sleeve even after all of these years of being who he is, says: “See, that’s why I love you.”

Bruce _freezes_. 

It’s Clint’s self depreciating laugh and bit off 'fucking nailed it, Barton' that kickstarts his brain again.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he says carefully. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.”

He puts on his darkest clothes because it seemed appropriate. He may not be any type of spy or even know what he’s doing but he trusts Clint’s instincts and he doesn’t want to mess this up for him.

 

“I really would feel safer if we checked it out tonight,” Clint says without preamble as soon as he sees Bruce.

He closes the copy of Cosmicomics he was half-heartedly reading. “Okay. I wasn’t sure how long it would take so I DVR’d the Daily Show for you.”

“… Is now an appropriate time to tell you I love you?”

Bruce laughs. “I think once you say it the first time any other time is fair game.”

Clint pulls him close and peppers his faces with kisses, the ridiculous man. “I love you. Let’s go buy the Earth another day.”

The drive is bordering on tense, kept calm only by the air of whimsy instilled by Darcy’s Ultimate Playlist: Super Sleuthing.

Bruce never knew there was so many variations of the James Bond theme song.

Clint’s been studying the place all day: a seemingly abandoned warehouse in a sparsely populated part of town. There’s no rhyme or reason to the organization. Just today, Clint saw the facility staffed with 5 people, with 100, and even none when it appeared they all went out for lunch.

He parks the car blocks away and has Bruce wait there until he could gather the latest intel. 

“If we’re lucky, you won’t even have to leave the car,” he smiles.

Bruce smiles back but says nothing. Maybe one day he'll explain the intricacies of Murphy's law to him.

“No such luck, Doc,” Clint says with a sad shake if his head when he returns.

They walk to the warehouse quietly, hand in hand like this was a casual evening walk.

“There’s upwards of 60 personnel in there. Only about 10 are scientist, threat level unknown. The rest are hired guns. High power weapons and they look like they know how to use them. I hate to say it but we’re gonna need the Big Guy.”

“Do you think its a good idea, with an explosive device in the mix?”

Clint bumps their shoulders together. “Oh ye of little faith. Need I remind you of all the times Hulk conducted himself really well, even in the face of our head-assery?"

Bruce raises his free hand in mock surrender.

“Hey, tough guy. You did really great today."

Hulk snorts derisively and pushes some of the incapacitated goons to the side so he could sit. "OF COURSE. HULK THE BEST THERE IS."

Clint pats his bicep placatingly. "Not that I don't love our talks but I need Bruce back. There's a potential bomb I need him to look at.”

Hulk dips his head in a nod.“ON ONE CONDITION.”

“As long as its something I can do.”

He juts his chin out fiercely. "JUST KNOW THAT HULK HERE," he taps his own forehead, "IF CLINT TRY HURT BANNER."

Clint backs up a step and nearly trips on someone's leg. “Hey, one of us in nigh indestructible and it ain’t me.”

Hulk looks impossibly sad, just for a moment. “HULK KNOWS CLINT KNOWS PUNCHING ISN’T THE ONLY KIND OF HURT.”

And then Clint’s left an armful of slightly bewildered scientist.

“That was. Um...”

Clint cuts him off. “We don’t have to talk about it until after Nat gives you her shovel talk. We’ll compare psychological scars then.”

Bruce nods and clears his throat, looks around at the destruction.

"Show me the bomb?"

They lean on each other, exhausted in their own rights, slowly picking their way to where the device was located on the other side of the main room.

“Your instincts were right. This is definitely a Bomb of some sort.” A biological warfare weapon, by the looks of it. It looks like something a cartoonist would come up with, but it definitely has all the parts necessary to bea viable threat.

Clint nods once, sharply, and calls Maria Hill.

“Good job, gentlemen.” Bruce tries not to think too hard about the note of surprise in her voice. He may not be a trained field agent but he does know a thing or two about how to get the job done.

“Chicago H.Q. has dispatched a team to your location. Remain on high alert until they make contact; we don’t know if you have any hostiles incoming.”

She ends the call without waiting for their response.

“Well," Clint drawls, "we have some time. Wanna play seven minutes in heaven in a dark corner somewhere?”

“Even with a bomb in the building?”

Clint shrugs. “If I’m going to go out, might as well die the way I lived.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“You love it,” Clint accuses.

“Yeah, I do,” he smiles.

This was getting sappy really fast. Bruce could see what Clint was doing, too. Trying to tide over the panic rising in Bruce’s chest. 

 

Oh god. He’s doing it. He’s dating someone who is in danger almost as constantly as he is, if not more.

There was a bomb sitting not even 20 feet away. Who knew if there was a remote trigger or if it was set to go off at a certain time or-

“How about I teach you how to shoot with my bow?”

Bruce takes a steadying breath and eyes the weapon in question. 

That bow would snap him in half, he’s sure of it.

“I promise I’ll try to stop freaking out if you don’t make me touch your bow.”

“Deal,” Clint says brightly and then launches them into a spectacularly boring game of I Spy.

There’s only so many times you can spy the single flickering computer display before you decide that making out at the scene of a crime is definitely the better alternative.

“Ahem,” someone clears their throat from nearby. Bruce jumps at the sound but Clint grips his arms and holds him still.

“Agent O’Hannigan. Glad you could finally make it.” Clint has an accusatory squint about his eyes and he stares down each and every S.H.I.E.L.D. agent until they look away from them and to the task at hand.

“Agent Lawson,” Clint addresses the lead agent and throws an apologetic glance at Bruce before leaving his side to relay the situation as he knew it.

Bruce stands off to the side, slowly making his way to the shadowy corner Clint mentioned earlier in the hopes that no one approaches him.

Of course, that doesn’t work. A nervous agent who must have pulled the short straw comes over and asks him about the bomb and if it’s safe to move.

“Well,” he rubs at his chin thoughtfully, mostly to keep up his air of being a mysterious slightly dangerous genius type. “I’m no expert, but I don’t think this bomb was meant to be detonated here, as this area is sparsely populated at best and wouldn’t do maximum damage.” It was a terrible thing to say, let alone think, but it was the truth. Or at least, what he expected was the truth.

The agent nods quickly and scampers off to confer this information to the rest of them.

“Bruce!” Clint calls out. Bruce walks over warily, keenly aware that he's shirtless in a room of agents in full-body bodysuits.

“Agent Lawson was just telling me something that I think you should hear from her, too.”

She nods. “Sir, I was just informing Agent Barton that Assistant Director Hill wished for me to convey her gratitude at a job well done and to notify you that you are free to return to New York at your nearest convenience.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if this seems like a wonky ending, that's because it is supposed to


	20. Day 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note of warning: i am very much a revisionist historian. as such, i went back and changed some minor details to make things easier for myself. it wont matter to you unless you’re like me and you just gotta make sure the minor details all match up

They spend the next few days packing up and sorting the furniture into two piles: stuff Clint’s keeping to decorate his self-claimed disaster of an apartment, and stuff they’re going to push onto the neighbors.

It’s right around the time that Clint’s taking a break and making a pros and cons list about trying to bring the mattress back home when Bruce realizes that he doesn’t actually have a home to get back to. 

When this first started, he was going to do what he usually does: close his eyes and point at a random place on the map.

But he can’t exactly do that now.

He’s kind of dating someone.

“So,” he starts. “When we get back to New York, I guess I can should ask Stark if I could stay with him.”

He doesn’t want to impose on Clint, even though they’re dating. He hasn’t exactly gotten around to discussing his no-sex-like-ever approach to life with him and that’s a Big Deal. Definitely something he has to do before they move in together or take any similarly big steps together.

Clint looks up from where he’s staring at his list thoughtfully.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Well, yeah.”

Clint's look is so unguarded- so vulnerable- Bruce has to look away first.

“You know you can always move in with me. We have ample experience, considering.”

Bruce smiles. “I’ll think about it once Stark gets on my last nerve.”

"So I'll be ordering pizza for two tomorrow then.”

Bruce sticks his tongue out and startles a laugh out of Clint.

Soon enough, the neighbors are banging down their front door, not wanting to miss a moment of the going away party that was sure to fill the gossip cycle for weeks to come.

Some of their neighbors seemed sadder to see them go than others, but Bruce promised himself that he wouldn’t overanalyze it.

"We all knew you we're leaving at the end of the summer, Amar. We just didn't expect it to be so soon," Mary Ann says. Sophia-from-three-houses-over nods, eyes wide.

"Well," Bruce says. They still show a bias for Bruce, even on their last day in this godforsaken suburb.  It makes him mad enough to spit.

He clears his throat and remembers where he is. "Yes well, that is the way life goes, isn't it?"

Mary Ann and Sophia dip their heads like what he said was an important insight or something.

At some point, Clint grabs his ass playfully to prove a point and summarily causes someone to choke on their samosa.

Yeah, he couldn't wait to get out of here.

Ashleigh’s husband takes the kids home when she insists that she’ll stay to help clean up. 

She helps them tidy up, throwing away all of the paper plates and lugging the trash to the curb. 

When it gets time to really say goodbye, she pulls them into a single hug. “Don’t become strangers just because y’all are moving back to the City, y’hear?” she murmurs.

She leans back to look them both in the eye. “And Clint, take care of our Bruce here. Bruce, make sure you do the same. The both of y'all's are like delicate flowers, and this world is too cruel to do anything but hold onto each other with everything y'got.” 

They freeze. Nausea rises up like bile in Bruce's throat, making it hard to evade and deny what she is insinuating.

Ashleigh laughs brilliantly. “What? You think jus' because I'm a simple country girl, I’m an idiot? I do have eyes, y'know. And the internet.”

Bruce's mouth hangs open like a dead fish. Clint isn't much better off. It makes Bruce feel better, knowing he's not the only deer caught in Ashleigh's headlights.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anybody," she says with the air of a fellow conspirator and a slight smirk that doesn't belong on her normally exuberant face. "Lord knows that if they haven’t figured it out by know, they never will.” 

She stabs them both in the chest with a delicately manicured finger. “Don’t be strangers. You won’t like it if I have to come all the way out there to pay you a visit.”

She pulls them both into another hug, squishing them with all of her strength, waves, and walks away.

“Wow,” Bruce says, staring after her.

“Yeah, Clint says. "A woman after my own heart.”


	21. Day 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry guys! this was actually the second chapter i finished writing when i started this but star trek beyond took over my life before i finished editing it.

"Clint."

During the night they had rolled into each other, Clint laying spread eagle over Bruce like an invasive radiator. Maybe under different circumstances this would be interesting and something to gently explore but today it's 4 A.M., they have a meeting with Fury in a little under 4 hours, and their combined weight is causing all the boniest bits of Bruce's back to touch the floor through the flimsy excuse of an air mattress.

"Clint." This time he pokes him in the squishy part of his abdomen.

"Mmph."

"Clint, we need to get up. Our debrief is at 8:00."

" _5moreminutesokay_?" He tries to burrow his face in the nearest surface but since that ended up being Bruce's armpit, he changes course and sticks his nose in Bruce's collarbone before going boneless again.

" _Clint_."

He tries to flip Clint from off of atop of him but Clint just loops his arms around Bruce and wills him to go back to sleep.

"I'm too comfortable," he whines, gripping tighter.

Which, yeah. Bruce barely felt Clint wake up at all that night, and that _never_ happens.

Well, not to Bruce's knowledge, anyways.

He eventually manages to shove Clint off but it's very touch and go and involves a lot of promises Bruce isn't wholly sure he can keep.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”

There's no furniture here anymore. It's all been either packed away and secreted off to the airport by S.H.I.E.L.D. agents or residing in various houses in the neighborhood. They sit in the kitchen on the space where the table used to be, legs crossed like they've been taught to their whole lives.

Clint takes a long contemplative sip of his coffee. “Aww, Brucey-Boo. It's been how long that we've been here and you're only asking me that now?" 

Bruce doesn't have anything to say to that because yeah. He dropped the ball on that. He's supposed to be a _scientist,_ for the god's sake. 

When they get to the airport Bruce buckles in to the copilots seat because he doesn’t want to be alone in the main cabin again. He also doesn’t want to bother Clint, because he's still firm on the whole "no distracting the pilot" thing so he pulls out his tablet and starts going through the emails he's been purposefully neglecting. 

Clint flips a switch, and the familiar strains of falsetto voices drift into the cockpit like squeaky voiced angels.

"I didn't know quinjets came equipped with CD players."

“All the ones I fly do,” Clint says with a wink.

They land, right on schedule, but Clint spends 20 minutes threatening the low-level agents who have been tasked with delivering the furniture to his apartment.

Fury's assistant looks surprised to see them bright and early at 8:15. Of course, she's still Fury's assistant, so surprise on her face looks more like a single quirked brow raised for the briefest period of time. She types something into the computer and waves them through the double doors.

Hill is there already, speaking into her earpiece and typing rapidly on two tablets.

Bruce has never envied her her job.

Fury slow claps it out when they give their reports.

“I am seriously impressed,” he says. He nods at Hill and she leaves the room with a curt nod.

Bruce and Clint look at each other.

“Wasn’t that what we were supposed to do? I mean, it took a while, but it _was_ our assignment,” Bruce ventures.

Fury sighs and leans forwards in his chair.

"To be frank with you, no. That wasn't the assignment." He raises a hand to silence Clint when it looks like he's about to say something.

"Don't get me wrong. You saved lives out there, finding that bomb. But like I said, that wasn't the primary goal. Just.... a happy coincidence.

“Understand: This is a global peace-keeping organization. _No matter what you think of us_ , that's what we do. And we're damn good at it. Until recently, that is." He steeples his fingers for a moment before folding them again. "Now, imagine my surprise when I find out just how much this one-" he gestures at Clint "-is the glue that keeps everyone happy and in optimal performance range.

"Morale was at an all-time low, and betting pools were annoyingly at an all-time high. Something needed to be done. So when Natasha came to me with a plan, a plan that could get this all resolved in 90 days, and I jumped at the opportunity. She sends her regards, by the way, from wherever the fuck she is.”

That… didn’t actually answer anything.

Fury sighed again.

“Bruce, remember those threats to national security and that catastrophic disaster I mentioned when I brought you in on this assignment?”

“...Yes?”

Fury looks pointedly at Clint.

And wow, do a lot of things make sense now.

Fury laughs long after they leave his office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D 
> 
> there you have it.
> 
> thanks for sticking with me this long! feel free to leave comments and/or kudos. both are greatly appreciated and help me feel like i didn't make a massive mistake


End file.
